


Pray That You'll Always Feel This Way

by sweetlullabies



Series: Deuxsphere [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bands, Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut, Pining, Underage Drinking, except louis definitely isn't nearly as invested in the idea of soulmates as harry was, hopefully if you were fluff-deprived with the story this makes you feel better :), i guess, i like jammed a bunch of fluff into this, im clearly just bored, omggg, this is basically louis' pov, what even is this tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-14 17:28:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11787948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetlullabies/pseuds/sweetlullabies
Summary: It was at The Red Rogue’s first concert of the school year when Louis saw him.  No, it wasn’t alove at first sightkind of thing, but awow, I’ve hooked up with every hot guy here yet I have no idea who that iskind of thing.Liam was in the middle of singing the first verse when Louis looked into the vast crowd in front of the stage and suddenly, a head full of flowing curls was the only thing he could really see.  It was weird—superweird, like, Louis began to wonder if someone had slipped something into the fruit punch he’d drunken before the gig.Louis' first year at uni is already destined to be a disaster, so it doesn't help when a devil with green eyes and pretty lips saunters into his life.





	Pray That You'll Always Feel This Way

**Author's Note:**

> hi! okay so this is a short little thing i made, and it's basically louis' pov from the fic i posted on here a few months ago titled 'deuxsphere'. it includes some of louis' own struggles, as well as additional, cute instances that can be inserted into the original story, because i love this couple so much and i feel that they should be drowned in fluff. there's also a bit of an epilogue too. it would also be really cool if you read this alongside the original story and connected things that happen here to things that happened there. if you choose to read this, i seriously hope you enjoy it.

 

 

“I think you’ve had enough, Louis,” Jimmy said, before reaching out and sliding the empty glass away from the boy.

Louis meant to pout, but instead he twisted his lips in an inhumane fashion before gaping like a fish in confusion and betrayal.  He leaned more of his weight onto the bar as his angry, bloodshot eyes bore into Jimmy’s. 

“What’s the _point_ of knowing the guy behind the bar, if I still get restrictions just like every other bar in this fucked up town?” Louis asked, his words almost unintelligible.  Louis knew Jimmy well though; the man would understand him even if he was so hammered all he did was mumble.  The man was a family friend, but the _cool,_ young kind; one that wouldn’t run and tell Louis’ mother about everything her son had gotten into while she wasn’t paying attention.  He also was the go-to in order for Louis to actually get something to _drink_ in a dystopian world of things like _age limits_ and _I.D’s_.  

“The restrictions come into play when it’s, uh…” Jimmy paused to glance down at his wristwatch.  “Almost one p.m., and you’re already drunk.”

Louis hastily pushed himself away from the counter of the bar and stood up, causing a spectacle as he opened his arms wide and spoke thunderously.  “I’m not…I’m not fuckin’ drunk, man—want me to walk in a straight line?” Louis asked, his eardrums just now starting to register the sounds of laughter from multiple people nearby.  Why were they laughing at him?

“Want me to say my ABC’s or something?” Louis asked, leaning on the nearest barstool for stability as Jimmy shook his head at him.

Jimmy gestured in Louis’ direction as he spoke to other people that were behind the bar, enjoying all of the free entertainment.  “Can you believe he’s starting college next week?”  At this point, the laughter increased, although Louis was half-certain it was just his mind driving him wild by increasing the volumes of all of the taunting noises.

Louis reached a hand into his hair for a moment, tugging on it for a bit before running his fingers through it, feeling dazed, confused, _drunk_ , and slightly hurt.

“You know college is a scam right?” Louis asked, an involuntary burp escaping his mouth in the midst of the sentence.  His fingers subconsciously gripped onto the barstool as he continued to voice his thoughts.  “Fuckin’…make you pay all that money.  All that money…that you don’t even have!  And for what?  So you can eventually _make_ money in thirty thousand years, no thank you.”

“Louis, you’re literally enrolled at uni,” Jimmy said.

Louis shook his head as the frustration at not being able to get another drink, as well as everyone taking him as some sort of joke right now, weighed in on him.  “I’m gonna go…I’m gonna drop out right now—no, tomorrow,” Louis slurred, his mouth feeling almost slippery.  Even in his _own_ ears, what he said didn’t sound like English. 

“What the fuck did he say?” a guy sitting next to him poorly whispered in confusion, and Louis decided in that moment that the guy was unnecessarily rude.

Louis turned to the side, putting more of his weight on the barstool as this guy continued to stare and laugh, as though Louis was some sort of freak show at a county fair.

“And what’s so funny, Willy Wonka?” Louis asked, leaning forward a bit in this guy’s direction.  He didn’t _actually_ look like Willy Wonka; he just had on a brown fedora, and Louis’ compromised mind was bad at coming up with on-the-spot nicknames.

“ _You,_ ” he said easily, his voice an octave lower than before.

Louis leaned an elbow on the bar as he brought himself closer to the man.  Now that he wasn’t focused on being angry and spewing ideologies from his mouth, he realized that this guy was quite cute.  He had easy eyes, strong looking hands, a nice amount of facial hair—Louis guessed he was around twenty-five-ish.  He hoped the guy didn’t mind that he was eighteen.  Most guys didn’t.

“Me, huh?” Louis asked, his voice almost a whisper now.

“Yeah I…” the guy started, scratching his neck as he looked away for a moment.  “I think you’re really cute.”

Louis reached out one of his hands in order to place it on top of the guy’s thigh, his fingers just barely stroking. “Well, lucky for you…” Louis began, gradually moving his hand upward and sensing the light intake of breath from the man in front of him (Louis figured he probably hadn’t been touched in a while).  “…I think you’re cute too.”

One of the man’s arms snaked around his lower back as he pulled Louis in, and Louis was already fully on board with all of this.

The guy spoke low enough for only Louis to hear as he caressed his waist gently.  “How about we, uh—“

As though the world was punishing Louis for some unknown reason, the entrance door to the bar busted open, and in came the man, the myth, the human leprechaun—Niall Horan.  He looked stressed and beyond his years as he gestured at Louis, his feet not pausing for even half a step as he started toward him.

“ _There_ you are!” he said, and Louis didn’t even get to register everything before he was being tugged by his arm and practically dragged toward the exit with Niall holding him upright.

“Too bright,” Louis winced as they entered the world outside of the bar where the sun was absolutely relentless.

“ _Already_ , Louis?  It’s barely even afternoon,” Niall said with a huff, and Louis was aware that it took a lot to make _Niall_ huff.  Louis figured he’d greatly disappointed him in some way—he just couldn’t figure out _how_.

“There’s…no curfew for having an awesome time,” Louis slurred as he stumbled over his feet.  “You lot are no fun, really,” Louis continued, his mind not even fully realizing that he’d been shoved into the passenger seat of Niall’s car.  “I’m the only one in the band that truly knows what fun is.  So much weight to carry.”

Niall seemed upset—no, he _definitely_ was, because he wasn’t even entertaining Louis’ rambled thoughts as he started up the car and shook his head.  Louis didn’t need people shaking their heads at him, as though they were his _father_ or something.  Louis didn’t need one of those—hadn’t needed one of those for years.

Louis lowered his window all the way as Niall drove, before letting his head rest on the windowsill so that the wind could glide over his face. 

“These are my last freedoms—my last moments of freedom before I’m sucked into a place with a bunch of entitled dickheads and professors who don’t truly care about me.” 

He glanced at Niall for a moment.  Nothing.

 

~*~

 

“How the fuck am I supposed to have experience if I’ve never had a job because I don’t have experience?” Louis asked as he clicked away at his computer.  He was in the campus computer lab, along with Marcus and Liam, who weren’t of much help with anything when it came to helping Louis apply for jobs.

“Just lie or some shit,” Marcus replied as he continued to tap his pencils against the edge of the table and place Louis on the brink of going completely mad.

Louis snorted as he typed in his education history.  “Yes, because it’s so easy to lie about things like that.”

“Should’ve just worked during the summer,” Liam commented, his cheeks half stuffed with the fried rice that he’d grabbed from the cafeteria on the way to the lab.  “But instead you wanted to be a problem child and hook up with every living thing.”

Louis ignored him as he continued to read the web page in front of him that contained the job application for a fucking ice cream place.  A _fucking_ ice cream place, and he probably still wasn’t going to get the job, because he didn’t have experience, an exceptional high school GPA, and an outstanding fucking track record, because only the finest were allowed to scrape molded ice cream into cones, of course.

“I almost forgot,” Liam suddenly said, sitting up in his chair as he continued to chew.  “Do you know that fucking _Harry Styles_ goes here?”

“Shit’s wild,” Marcus replied.

Louis typed away at the computer as he shook his head slightly.  “Don’t know who that is, don’t care.”

“You _should_ care,” Marcus said.  “His dad’s the reason everyone on this campus is gonna know who we are.”

“We’re gonna have groupies by the end of the week,” Liam added, a cheeky grin on his face as he reached across Louis in order to slap hands with Marcus, who also annoyingly hummed in agreement.

Louis decided to fully tune them out as he focused on finishing the never-ending application so that he could finally leave the computer lab and focus on better things, like taking a nap. 

_What is something you’ve done that you are proud of?  Your best asset?  Greatest accomplishment?  List references._

Louis did nothing but blink at the computer screen, feeling a little hopeless, a little angry at the world, a little angry at himself for not being adequate enough to come up with answers to these questions.  What reason did he have to be proud of himself?  God, did he have to pretend not to hate himself to get a job?

He held his bottom lip between his teeth, the muffled sounds of Liam and Marcus continuing their conversation getting lost in his ears.  All he saw were the words on the screen, mocking him endlessly for being a person of absolutely no accomplishments up to this point.  No reasons to be proud of himself, no assets.  And now, probably, no job.

Louis could feel his eyes glossing over as he continued to stare blankly, but before he could _fully_ dissociate, thankfully, his phone vibrated.  He quickly grabbed it off of the table and read the text message from an unsaved number:

_Come over?_

Louis didn’t hesitate before closing the browser and moving to gather his belongings, figuring that it’d be best for him to get back to doing the one thing he was _actually_ useful for.

 

~*~

 

Louis was pulling on his briefs when Cameron (the dude that had texted him, Louis figured out), came up behind him, two of his fingers laying themselves against Louis’ back. 

“That’s awesome…” he said, almost in awe as he stroked at it. 

“Really?” Louis asked as he moved out of Cameron’s reach and went to pick his sweatshirt up off of the ground.  “I was thinking of turning it into a lion, or something.”

“How the fuck would you turn a rose into a lion?” Cameron asked as he took a seat at the edge of the bed.

Louis’ words were mumbled as he spoke whilst pulling his shirt down over his head.  “I’m pretty sure a good tattoo artist can do anything.  Can’t believe you actually like it,” Louis laughed as he finally walked back toward Cameron.  “It’s so prissy and—almost like it’s too elegant to be on my body.”

Cameron reached out and dug his fingers into the waistband of Louis’ briefs, just enough to pull him closer as he gazed up at him.  “I think it’s sexy.”

Louis rolled his eyes as he tried to take a step back, which only resulted in Cameron pulling him that much closer.  “You think everything on me is sexy,” Louis whispered.

“That’s because you are…” the boy started, wrapping his arms around Louis’ lower back and pulling him in until Louis had no choice but to fall into his lap.  “…the physical embodiment of the word 'sexy'.”  He mouthed at Louis’ neck as Louis messed with his hair strands, far too used to this kind of lust-filled talk.

“Is this just your way of telling me you wanna go another round?” Louis asked into his shoulder.

“Yep,” he replied.

“Let’s go then,” Louis whispered with a smile, resulting in Cameron humming with satisfaction and flipping Louis over so that the boy was on his back.

 

~*~

 

It was at The Red Rogue’s first concert of the school year when Louis saw him.  No, it wasn’t a _love_ _at first sight_ kind of thing, but a _wow, I’ve hooked up with every hot guy here yet I have no idea who that is_ kind of thing.

Liam was in the middle of singing the first verse when Louis looked into the vast crowd in front of the stage and suddenly, a head full of flowing curls was the only thing he could really see.  It was weird— _super_ weird, like, Louis began to wonder if someone had slipped something into the fruit punch he’d drunken before the gig.

His initial thought whilst still trying to partially focus on strumming was _who the fuck wears sunglasses in the dark_ , but he quickly decided not to get too hung up on it.  He had promised himself that he was going to be fully committed to making sure this show was their best one yet, so that everyone could have an amazing first impression of them and actually take them seriously as a band.  He was going to focus on finding out who Mysterious Hot Guy was and deal with that later—right now his focus needed to be on the performance, and nothing else.

He managed to accomplish exactly that, almost effortlessly so as he lost himself in his guitar and became engulfed by his desire to actually make something big out of The Red Rogue.

His focus, however, went right out the window when he glanced to the side only _slightly_ and realized that this mystery guy was _right in front of the stage_ now.  Literally just a few feet away from Louis, and Louis would’ve been lying if he’d said that didn’t weird him out just a bit.

Louis didn’t bring himself to fully look at this boy as he continued to strum, because his mind was slowly starting to convince himself that this boy was a ghost for several reasons: one, he’d moved from point A to point B fairly quickly (Louis had _just_ seen him getting a hotdog a mile away), and two, Louis felt…strange.  It was as if the boy’s presence brought along a faint gust of air, like the one a ghost would bring—except it wasn’t cold…it was more warm and comfortable and—the problem was, it threatened to deter Louis’ focus, so Louis took several leaps back as he continued strumming the chords to “Bad Habit” by The Kooks, and decided to forget about this weird event altogether.  He may have been easy, but he was _not_ going to hook up with a ghost.

 

~*~

 

It was quiet in Louis’ dorm room. 

He had tried and failed at studying for a few minutes, so now he was just lying on his bed as his _Because of the Times_ album played through the speakers in his room.  He’d also been putting in minimal effort to sext some dude on his phone as he continued to lazily spend all day in his room.

The random roommate he’d been assigned had dropped out after the first week, and Louis was aware most people would’ve been ecstatic about having a room all to themselves, and Louis _was_ at first, but it was times like these where that emotion was less so.

Louis buried lighthearted laughs into his pillow, although he had no idea why he was laughing.

Why was he even at this school?  Louis would never get over the fact that, knowing how dumb and utterly non-book smart Louis was, his mother actually wasted so much money in order to make sure he went there.  He would never understand why she had so much faith in him.

After replying to another one of the guy’s steamy texts and blowing a yawn into his fist, Louis flipped over on his bed, eyes settling upon the guitar across the room as it laid against the wall.  He just couldn’t wait to skip to the part where everything paid off.

At some point, Louis was so bored he was just about ready to stick a hand down his pants and actually _get_ something out of this one-sided sexting streak, but when a knock came at his door, he figured he’d been saved.

It was Niall, pulling Louis out of his room and asking where the fuck he’d been for the last few days, and then claiming that he was supposed to be at a late night rehearsal, and then scolding Louis for not answering or reading any of their texts, and then making sure to let Louis know that Liam was not happy.

Louis did this sometimes—went ghost on the boys when he was feeling too… _much_ ; not opening any of their texts, not reaching out to any of them, pretty much completely avoiding them.  Louis didn’t know exactly _why_ he did it to the only boys who really understood him at this school, just like he didn’t understand a lot of things he did.  Sometimes he wondered if he just liked to cause chaos when things were going too well for everybody.

Louis didn’t care if Liam was mad, because Liam was not the boss of him.  Liam might’ve been the one who organized all the gigs and gave them places to rehearse and granted them a shred of professionalism, but he wasn’t the boss of him.

Still, however, Louis had to suffer through his own personal lecture when he and Niall’d finally arrived at the theatre stage that the drama club normally used for plays.

“I’m so sick of you having random moments where you disappear and don’t answer anyone’s texts,” Liam had said after a frustrating round of trying out a new song.  “We’re always worried if we don’t know where you are, or what the fuck you’re doing.”

“Don’t worry about me, okay?” Louis had said as he picked at the strings of his guitar.  “Are you gonna act like I’m the only reason practice is shitty today?”

“Well, you coming late kinda threw things off, dude…” Marcus said from where he was sat behind his drum set.  He was quieted as soon as Louis threw him a death glare, making sure to strike fear into his very soul if he uttered anything else.

Louis gestured wildly at Niall, who was on the complete opposite side of the stage, attached to his phone like it was his lifeline.  “Niall has been using every millisecond that we’re not playing to _text_!  At least _my_ mind’s actually _here_ and not on my _phone_!”

Liam let out a heavy sigh as he looked down and stroked his palm over his forehead.

“Who are you even texting this much, Niall?” Louis asked incredulously, growing fed up with everyone attacking him as a first resort.  “Seriously.”

“You didn’t see him making googly eyes at that dude at our show?” Marcus asked.

Louis stared blankly between Niall and Marcus, although the blond boy still hadn’t looked up from his cellular device.

“Wait.  You really didn’t see him?” Marcus asked, sitting up a little.  “It was so noticeable—we were all on stage trying not to laugh about it.  How did you possibly _miss_ that?”

“Wasn’t paying attention, I guess,” Louis said, his volume at a lower level as he checked the tuning on his guitar. 

“Dude was proper fit,” Liam commented, apparently having gotten out of his stressed state.

Louis bit his cheek as he looked at the boy.  “Liam, you have a girlfriend.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t recognize when someone is fit.”

“But you—“

“Hey!” Marcus yelled, snatching everyone’s attention.  “Music!  This is practice, remember? Can we get back to, you know, _practicing_?”

Without another word, he tapped his drumsticks together and the band fell right back into it as they began playing—and it sounded horrible. 

Louis was a man of truth, so he didn’t hold back in voicing how horrible they sounded, which resulted in him getting attacked again, which resulted in more arguing, which resulted in them throwing the props that were stored backstage at each other and completely trashing the theatre stage.

 

~*~

 

Louis saw _the guy_ about two more times after that show, so eventually he figured the dude must go to their school.  Another thing Louis had noticed was that, quite often, he was with a girl who may or may not have been his girlfriend.  Louis was skeptical because, while it seemed like they were close, this guy looked so pretentious that Louis was certain he was too self-absorbed to even care about another person enough to have a girlfriend.

Louis hadn’t spoken any actual _words_ to him, but.  He felt like he knew him.

The dude was always wearing name brand sunglasses, he never stared anywhere but forward when he walked, as though he didn’t care about anything else going on around him, and he talked to _nobody_.  Louis figured he only cared about himself, and sometimes, that girl.

Louis was sitting on one of the benches in the student park with Niall when he finally decided to bring him up, only because the frustration of not knowing who the fuck this guy was ate him alive.

“Who _is_ he?” Louis asked, shielding his face from the sun as he watched the boy leisurely walk toward the science building with his backpack half-on, as though he had nowhere important to be.

Niall glanced up from his phone for only half a second, quickly knowing who Louis was referring to.  “Oh, you mean Harry?”

“I guess.”

“He’s the son of the man whose venue we played at the beginning of the year,” Niall explained.

Louis leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee as he continued to observe this dude from afar, like a predator in the wild.  “I think I remember someone mentioning that.”

A suspicious smile grew across Niall’s face as he continued to text his life away.  “He’s also Zayn’s best friend.”

Louis did nothing but nod his head as he continued to watch, and then Harry disappeared into the building, completely oblivious to Louis’ curious eyes.

Niall seemed to finally tear his eyes away from his phone as he pulled Louis by the back collar of his shirt, causing the boy to sit back against the bench.  He then gripped Louis’ chin in order to get the boy to face him.  Louis giggled as they held eye contact.

“No,” was all Niall said.

“ _What_?”

“He has a girlfriend, I’m ninety percent sure he doesn’t swing that way, and we’re trying not to piss off his dad,” Niall said.  “Just please.  No.”

Louis rose his eyebrows up to the sky, trying and failing at attempting not to smirk.  “I didn’t even _say_ anything.”

“Let me repeat that he is close to Zayn, and if you do anything to fuck this up, I swear—“

“Okay, _okay_ ,” Louis replied, reaching out to pinch at Niall’s cheek.  “Don’t you worry your blond little head.  I’ll leave him alone.”

Niall finally grinned, and the fact that he was so smitten was almost adorable enough for Louis to consider _actually_ leaving this boy alone.

Louis decided that he would.  It couldn’t have been that hard, anyway—they’d never even _talked_.  Louis hadn’t even looked at him closely enough to decide if he was as attractive as he’d appeared from afar.  He just seemed like another one of those hollow, spoiled brats that didn’t acknowledge how privileged they were, and Louis was _not_ going to fuck him just to prove to himself that he could—to prove to himself that the guy probably thought he was better than Louis, even though Louis could have him on his knees within seconds.  He was going to refrain from doing that.  For Niall.

Except—

He’d done a good job of it for quite a while, because he hadn’t seen the guy since then.  He’d actually _completely_ forgotten about him, if he was being honest.  But as soon as he’d seen him out of the corner of his eye while he and the boys were kicking a football back and forth on the field, his mind became hijacked and absolutely disregarded everything Louis had said he wouldn’t do.

He was sitting at one of the wooden tables with that _girl_ , and they were fucking _studying_ , and—Louis fixed his feet into position before kicking the ball right in his direction with perfect aim.  It was seriously the most perfect kick Louis had ever done in his life.

Louis’ first thought, as Niall and Marcus watched the ball fly over to Harry with wide eyes, was _fuck_. 

And then after watching Harry get struck rather hard on the head with it, he just bursted into effortless laughter, because _fuck_.  What even was that?

“Seriously?” Marcus huffed before jogging off to retrieve the ball.

Niall just stared at him, his eyes huge and green as Louis continued to giggle.

“My foot slipped?” Louis said uselessly.

Niall shook his head as he moved to follow behind Marcus, and Louis figured he’d go over there as well—to apologize, of course.  Or maybe see how he looked up close?  Either way, he was following them.

 

~*~

 

Louis discovered two things about Harry:  number one, he was a dickhead, and number two, he was cute up close.  Very cute.  Just _cute_ , in every sense of the word, and his face grew flushed the more frustrated he got, his lips were plush and pink in a way that made Louis believe he was built in a pristine factory.

Louis wasn’t sure which number outweighed the other yet, but he was going to figure it out eventually.  For now, he was going to continue to piss the boy off, because he was rude and arrogant, and also, because it was fun.  No one called Louis tiny— _no one_.  All of the boys were aware of how much he hated references to his size, due to the fact that Louis once put hair removal cream in Marcus’ shampoo when the boy made a joke about how he couldn’t reach a book that was on the top shelf at the library.  So, for that very offensive comment Harry made about his size, the boy was canceled as far as Louis was concerned.

All Louis could hope was that he would never see him again, because he would probably lose control and kick him in the balls before giving him ripe hickies on the side of his neck.  That would probably do nothing but freak him out.

 

~*~

 

Whilst watching the body of water, sitting somewhere in the sand dozens of miles from campus in the middle of the night with only the faint sounds of howling to accompany him, it was easy for Louis to pretend he wasn’t crying.

It was easy for him to curl up on his side and silently let the tears fall, because no one was around to see it—it seemed like no one was around for _miles_. 

He had no idea where he was, but he’d been driving aimlessly when found a shore off to the side that looked quiet and peaceful enough to provide him with a private space to let everything out.

Louis knew the boys hated when he did things like this—just up and disappeared, usually to places where it was quite dangerous for him to be by himself, but he didn’t care. Sometimes, he needed seclusion; he needed a fucking moment to not be overwhelmed with books and deadlines and hungry eyes and frustrating band practices.

His phone was pressed up against his ear as he sniffled in the dark, his mother waiting patiently on the other line.  That was one of the millions of reasons Louis cherished her so much; she was patient, and actually allowed Louis his moments of weakness.

After a few more moments of choked silence, Louis did what he did best; whined to his mother about how he couldn’t do this, how he didn’t _want_ to do this, how he wasn’t as smart as everyone else, how he couldn’t stop fucking thinking about actually putting time and effort into this shitty school and still getting the fattest F’s on his papers, all while flying from job interview to job interview. 

Sometimes, he felt like his life was an F.  F for flunking all of the tests, F for failure, F for all the disgusting words his father once used to describe him. 

He was just tired of disappointing people, and lately, that was all he’d been doing.  He was only a few weeks into the semester and it didn’t take a genius for one to know that his mother was going to end up disappointed in his grades at the end of the school year, so he figured he might as well just quit now.

But there his mother was, just like she’d always been—telling him sweet, encouraging words in his ear and actually managing to convince Louis that he was worth something.  That he actually _could_ handle all that life would throw at him, because according to her, he was amazing.  Louis wasn’t _fully_ believing the whole “amazing” thing, but by the end of their conversation, he’d felt much more determined than before.

So he listened to her.  He tried to do less socializing and partying and more studying, and while he could admit, it lasted about two weeks, he actually _did_ see some improvement in both himself and his grades.  His mother always used to say that Louis was good at attempting to ruin things before even giving them a chance, but Louis didn’t agree with that.  Louis was good at knowing things were going to go bad and shutting them down before that could happen.  His mother called it being negative, he called it being realistic.

But still, he was going to try his best for her.  He maintained focus, attempted to balance his days out, tried not to worry the boys with his drinking, had lots of sex to relieve stress, and vowed to himself that there would be no distractions.

It was easy—almost becoming a _breeze_ , actually.

But then there was Harry.

And it wasn’t even that Louis _liked_ the guy or anything.  He just kept _popping up_.  Louis would’ve been an oblivious idiot if he didn’t notice how much Harry just kept _appearing_ in different places.  It was distracting.

Louis had been adamant on just ignoring it, because it was probably just a long string of coincidences or something, and Louis was trying to focus on the five balances of his life: school, food, sleep, sex, and the band.

But the boys just seemed to _adore_ him so much, which made Louis partially sick, because he’d spoken to Harry a couple of times, and the boy seemed insincere more than anything.  Louis had been getting used to seeing him constantly, so he figured it would make sense for him to the obvious, fun thing to do: flirt with the guy.

 _Everything_ went over his head, as though Harry was completely unfamiliar with the concept of flirting.  Louis was flirtatious by nature; he was pretty sure the only guys he _didn’t_ flirt with were the ones in his band.  

He teased the guy all the time, invited Harry to _search_ him (a free invitation to groping, hello), even fed the dude _strawberries_ , yet the boy remained as solid as a rock.  Louis guessed he just really liked his girlfriend, or something.  _That_ was a first.

Louis could admit, it was kind of adorable, the fact that Harry seemed completely clueless and often went red cheeked when Louis even as much as told him he was cute.  It was something Louis hadn’t experienced in a long time—a guy simply being innocent and held-off towards Louis’ advances instead of immediately giving in and devouring him in the bedroom.  It was…refreshing.

But it was cute as much as it was frustrating.  Louis almost felt like Harry was being dangled in his face, as though someone were trying to mock Louis because of the fact that one of the only assets he had were his body, the way he could seduce someone with his eyes, and the arousing touch of his hands, yet Harry didn’t blink at any of this.  It was almost as though he was _unattainable_ , which put quite a damper on Louis’ confidence, considering _attaining_ guys was the only thing that gave him purpose. 

So Louis gave up on the flirting, instead just opting to openly hate Harry for a reason absolutely no one was aware of, because he hated himself and needed to let his frustration out on _somebody_.

He hated him because he was rich, he hated him because he also wasn’t _that_ bad once Louis spoke to him some more, hated him because he was cute, hated him because he didn’t bat an eyelash at any of Louis’ flirting attempts, hated him because the boys loved him so much, hated him because he had that fucking _girlfriend_ —he had fucking _everything_ and Louis just hated it.

Louis figured that maybe if he just hooked up with Harry already, all the frustration would go away.  He wouldn’t be so obsessed with everything involving him anymore.

At least, that was what Louis _thought_ , until interaction with Harry started to become less teasing and flirting and more just…talking.  Talking about things that Louis didn’t ever just _talk_ to people about, like his passions, his thoughts, things going on within the band.  When he finally realized that the transition had occurred, it was too late to turn around.

 

~*~

 

He had been sitting in his room late one night, simply playing his guitar finger style as he did often, when Harry had popped in.  Surprisingly, the first thought that went through Louis’ head _wasn’t_ related to the fact that Harry was in his bedroom and they could finally fuck and get this over with, but the fact that Harry looked cute and tired and Louis’ heart had fucking _stopped_.

One moment of Harry questioning why Louis didn’t like him (he didn’t know it was _that_ obvious) turned into Harry staying in his room for hours, conversation endlessly flowing between them in a way that hadn’t happened to Louis _ever_ before.

At some point in the night, they were laid on their backs on his bed, Louis’ guitar upon his lap as he attempted to play whilst in the position he was in.  He was a bit tired, but _something_ within him didn’t want to go to sleep so soon.  He didn’t want everything to end so soon, because then he knew he’d be hit with the reality of _what the fuck was that_.

“What do you think of this?” Louis had asked, before clumsily playing a seven second melody that he’d been working on for an unfinished song called “Fireproof”.  He hadn’t even told his own band about the fact that he wrote songs, yet here he was, vomiting all of his music to Harry after only three hours of genuinely talking to him.

“I like it,” Harry’d said, his wild curls framing his head as he laid against the pillow.  “It sounds peaceful.  Like a sunrise, or something.”  And then his little dimple came out, and Louis was growing sick to his stomach because of how adorable this guy was without even knowing.

Louis had shifted his eyes in order to stare at the ceiling, his fingers still braced over the neck of the guitar.  “Wow, Harold.  What a very detailed, descriptive review.”

Harry had rubbed one of his eyes as he giggled.  “Sorry, I’m sleepy and that’s the best I can do.  It would be better with lyrics, though.”

“Wow, I never thought of that,” Louis said.  “You just _invented_ the concept of songwriting.”

“If you’re gonna be sassy all the time, I might rethink this whole ‘friend’ thing,” Harry had said as he shoved him, which naturally, resulted in him receiving a shove back, which may or may not have caused Harry to fall off of the bed.

Either way, they ended up laughing, completely disregarding how tired they were as Louis shoved his face into a pillow and then showed him some more guitar riffs.

The feeling Louis had felt that night was reminiscent of making a friend in elementary school.  It had that same sort of easy innocence—two people just got along and made jokes and were nice to each other and thus, became _friends_.  It was odd to Louis, because everything was so easy.  It was almost _too_ easy.

So naturally, he had to fuck everything up.

Harry was only so determined to be his friend because of how easy it was, but he didn’t know about the bad parts of Louis.  He didn’t know about the chaotic part of Louis who nearly got kicked out of the band for being reckless, drove his father out of his house, and didn’t deserve anything good.

Harry was being naïve, thinking he and Louis could actually get along.  Louis was going to make Harry hate him, just like he eventually would when he discovered all the aspects of who he was.  When he discovered how much work being “friends” with Louis really was.

So at Marcus’ birthday party, every time Harry looked at Louis with concern, Louis drank himself into oblivion.  It took Harry much longer than Louis had expected for him to give up, but eventually he did, proving Louis to be once again, correct.

His instances of “giving up” never really lasted for more than ten minutes, but still.

 Louis was so certain that after witnessing such a train wreck of a person, Harry would disappear into the night, wishing he’d never gotten involved with him, yet there Louis was, several weeks later with Harry still by his side, having somehow survived the deadly tornado that was Louis Tomlinson.  It was like he couldn’t shake Harry off—he didn’t _want_ to, but he did try sometimes, because he knew that Harry would leave eventually.

The three boys—Niall, Marcus, and Liam—were _constants_ in his life.  That was the way it’d been for a long time, and that was the way it was always going to be.  There was no room for another constant in Louis’ life, yet Harry _constantly_ stayed around, _constantly_ did nothing but offer his kind smiles, _constantly_ provided Louis with an escape when he didn’t feel like being the vibrant, touchy, fun guy for a second.

 

~*~

 

After the end of the semester, as well as Louis’ unbearably horrible holiday break, Louis found himself back at square one.

To make a long and exhausting story short, his father thought it would be okay to _visit_ for Christmas and Louis’ birthday, and even worse, his mother thought it would be okay to _let him_ , her rationale being that “he’s trying to be better” or some other completely bullshit reason.

Louis was a strong believer that no one could magically “become better”.  If a person was shitty, a person was shitty for life—or at least, that was how they would forever be viewed by Louis.  So he spent most of his break leaving the house in order to escape, as well as doing the one thing he hated most; yelling at his mother.  He was aware he was a terrible role model for his little sister, but then again, he was never really put on earth to be a role model, was he?

So here Louis was, sat on some sidewalk on a street he wasn’t even sure of, and after a full five minutes, he finally became aware of the fact that his phone had been endlessly ringing.

Louis let out a tiny burp before finally reaching into his pocket and taking quite a while to process what was on his phone screen.

“Hello?” he asked once he finally brought his phone up to his ear.

Liam was so loud that Louis actually dropped his phone onto the concrete when the man spoke.  “ _Where_ are you?”

“Fuck,” Louis sighed, scrambling to reach for his phone again.  He brought it back to his ear as he began to use minimal strength to push himself up to his feet.  “I’m…I’m here…”

“Are you _drunk_?”

“I’m—no,” Louis started, blinking repeatedly.  “I’m actually…I’m fine.”

“We have a show in fifteen minutes!” Liam yelled, and the assertive tone of his voice almost scared Louis a bit.

Louis rubbed a hand down his face for many reasons; a few of them being, he was drunk, he had no idea where he was, and he definitely wasn’t in the right state of mind to do a fucking _show_ right now.

“Louis!”

“God, stop fucking yelling,” Louis mumbled as he began an attempt at walking down the sidewalk in the dead of the night.  He lost balance after only a few seconds and found himself down on his knees, so he attempted to stand up again, and managed to do so somewhat successfully. 

“I’m on my way,” Louis assured him, tuning out Liam’s murmurs and complaints about how they’d been talking about the gig all week and how he couldn’t believe Louis would do this and that.

He pulled the phone away from his ear, staring dazedly at the screen as he tried to figure out how he managed to forget about the gig they’d had, the muffled sounds of Liam’s rants continuing to bellow from the device.

Then, with a heavy breath, he hurled his phone at the ground, frustration taking over him as it bounced off of the sidewalk and into the road.  The cracking noise of it seemed to get a stranger’s attention as he watched a dark figure, of what his drunken mind believed was a _person_ , turn away from the door of the convenience store he’d been about to enter.

Louis rubbed both hands down his face, stress and worry and deprecation and fear starting to consume him as he continued to ponder over how horrible every aspect of his life was at the moment.

“Hey,” Louis heard, which caused him to pull his hands away from his face in order to find the guy making his approach, bending over to grab Louis’ phone whilst doing so.

Louis just shook his head, the blurry thoughts of his compromised, fucked up head rendering hm unable to fully process everything.  He wiped his eyes with his sleeve once he started to sense the impending tears.

“You okay?” the dude asked, seeming to keep his distance a bit as he held Louis’ phone.  He kept both hands in the air in an almost surrendering fashion, as though he was checking with Louis if it was okay to approach.

Louis just continued to shake his head, a tear or two finally succeeding in sliding down his cheeks and proving him to be weak.

The guy took the last couple of steps in order to reach Louis, both of his hands gently settling upon Louis’ shoulders, Louis continuing to mumble to himself and shake his head and try to ignore the feeling of wetness upon his face. 

“It’s too late,” Louis practically breathed, now looking up into this guy’s eyes. 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s too late…I,” Louis continued to murmur, before attempting to push the boy’s hands off of him, because it was _too_ _late_.  “I already—I can’t…I’ve let them down.”

The boy shook his head, and Louis didn’t fully register the guy taking Louis under his arm and pulling him along before Louis himself was grabbing onto him for dear life.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” the guy said, his voice kind and reassuring, no matter how spastic and alarming Louis was probably getting.

“I don’t know where home is,” Louis practically sobbed into this guy’s shoulder.

“Sure you do.  I’ve seen you around campus.  We’ll get you back there, okay?”

Louis simply continued to mumble as his feet blindly followed alongside him.  “I’ve let them down…I’ve let them down…”

“It’s okay,” Louis heard, followed by the feeling of soft fingers stroking against his hair, which instantly calmed him as he simmered down a bit.

Louis’ eyebrows furrowed as they continued walking, it now seeming like this guy’s car was a million miles away.  “Who are you?”

“I’m Eli.”

“Eli, I’m not having sex with you,” Louis mumbled, followed by yawn.

He felt Eli shake as the boy laughed.  “That should be the last thing on your mind right now.”

 

~*~

 

“We already cancelled,” was the first thing Liam said once Louis had arrived with Eli, backstage at their gig.

Once Louis had begun sobering up, he’d remembered exactly where their show was supposed to be, and even though he had no doubt in his mind that he was already late, he still wanted to at least show his face.

Louis clasped his hands together, watching as Marcus lazily tapped his drumsticks together and Niall didn’t even look him in the eye.  “Well…I got kinda carried away—“

“Sure you did,” Liam said, giving Eli one look before he began slipping on his jacket in order to leave.  “Bet it was _really_ important, huh?”

Louis’ eyes quickly turned angry as he watched Liam completely exit the room.  “I’m trying to _apologize_ to you, you dickhead!” he yelled as he attempted to stomp toward him, only to find himself halted by Eli’s arm. He instead kicked at a random piece of drum set equipment lying on the ground as frustration overcame him.

“Louis, just go home,” Marcus said with a shake of his head as he threw one of his drumsticks in the air.  “Liam will book us another show.  He always does.”

Niall finally stepped forward, an almost maniacal look on his face as he seemed to be so angry he was nearly smiling.

“I’ll take him from you,” the boy said, grabbing Louis’ arm and aiding him in stepping away from Eli.

Louis didn’t even get a second to say goodbye to the nice boy before he was being pulled out of the venue, winter air encompassing his entire being as Niall continued to walk at a steady pace, with no regard as to how much of a mental struggle it was for Louis to keep up.

A dry, lifeless laugh escaped Niall’s mouth as he continued walking, shaking his head at his feet.

“Can you at least say something?” Louis asked.

The boy did the very opposite as he continued, his glare going hard as he stared straight ahead.  His car seemed to magically come into view, and before Louis knew it, Niall was opening up the passenger door, gesturing for Louis to get in.

Louis stood exactly where he was, looking Niall dead in the eye.  “I’m not getting in until you talk to me.”

Niall shook his head some more as he crossed his arms, another one of those serial killer smiles poking at his cheeks as he bit his bottom lip.

“ _Talk_ to me!” Louis yelled, hearing the thunderous nature of his voice echo through the parking lot.

“What is there to _say_ , Louis?” Niall snapped, the sharpness of his voice taking Louis by such surprise that he took a step back.  “You never listen to us anyway!”

“Yes, I _do_!” Louis replied, his voice desperate.  “I’ve been—I’ve been really good up until now.  I thought I was improving, and—“

“Well, it doesn’t really mean anything if you just turn right back around mess up again, does it?”

“I’m fucking _sorry_ that I can’t keep it together all the fucking time like all of you level-headed freaks,” Louis spat.  “That the past couple of weeks have been the worst of my _life_ and I feel like I can’t take it anymore!  I’m _trying_.”

Louis hadn’t realized he was crying again until he felt the tears beginning to drip from his face.  He hugged himself as he looked at the ground.  “And you…you’ve been drifting.  And I don’t fucking _like_ that, okay?” Louis said, his eyes back up and looking purely into Niall’s.  “I don’t fucking like that.  You’re—please, Niall.”  Louis was now speaking through pained sobs, his voice choked up and almost useless.  “Please.  You’re all I have.  Don’t fucking—you haven’t been there as much as you used to.  Don’t do this to me.”

Niall’s entire aura began to soften as he held Louis’ gaze, the boys bottom lip quivering with contained anguish.

“I can take that from a lot of people,” Louis sniffed.  “But not you.”

Louis was jerked forward when Niall pulled him for a hug, holding him tight as he caressed the back of his head.

“I’m so sorry, Louis.”

Louis continued to let out soft cries into his shoulder, all of the neglect and distrust he’d been feeling for quite a while now beginning to strike him in full force.  He brought his arms up in order to hug Niall back, pulling him close out of fear that he was going to drift away.  Louis had witnessed too many people leave his life, people who promised to stay, and usually, he watched them leave with indifference, but Niall was one person he wasn’t going to simply watch walk away.  He had to put his pride aside for this boy.

 

~*~

 

Being with Harry made Louis better, he came to realize.

Just seeing the boy instantly put this fluffy cloud over Louis, which refreshed him with innocence and simple joy.  Harry didn’t know everything about Louis, but he had witnessed and had been treated like shit by Louis enough to walk away, and he still hadn’t.

Harry encouraged him in a way no stranger had in a while, by always asking him about his songs, checking up on him, and being thoroughly supportive about all of Louis’ passions and dreams.  He would’ve never showed his original songs to the boys if it weren’t for Harry constantly acting like he was the best songwriter in the world.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Harry was a solid friend to Louis, matching the exact definition of the word.

He thought less about drinking when Harry was prominent in his life, because he didn’t want the boy to see him like that anymore.  Harry deserved innocence, and he deserved Louis to be fully present whenever they were together.  He was past trying to get the boy to hate him, because that clearly wasn’t possible.  Louis was pretty sure he could push him down the stairs and the boy would still never hate him.  He would’ve probably ignored him for a bit though, but he’d forgive him in two hours, tops.

That was another thing about Harry.  He never really _voiced_ when he had a problem with something Louis did—the only way Louis would find out that the boy was angry about something was when he would randomly get stand-offish or silently ignore Louis.  Louis _never_ knew what he did wrong, so he just figured Harry probably had random mood swings.  Louis found it funny though; the boy not realizing how transparent he was.

 

~*~

 

“You know, you don’t have to run off every time we have sex,” Eli said one night, his arm wrapped around Louis’ waist as they both laid under the blankets.

Louis giggled as he shoved Eli’s hands off of him.  “It’s not running off.  I have something I need to do.”  He slid off the side of the bed, both of his feet landing on the floor as he grabbed his shirt from the nightstand.

“Are you a superhero by night, or something?” Eli laughed, sitting up as Louis continued getting dressed.

Louis laughed right along with him as he pulled on his jeans, taking note of the fact that any other guy would’ve just assumed he had someone else to go fuck.  Eli was different.  He never gave Louis any shit about his sex life when Louis left him on nights like these, although Louis was certain he felt sort of bitter about it.

“Yes, I am,” Louis said as he sat down in Eli’s office chair in order to pull on his socks.  “That’s why I always disappear at night and come to class late in the morning.”

Eli was about to reply when Louis’ phone vibrated by the bed.  He lazily reached over to grab it as Louis continued to try and get himself prepared to leave.

“That ‘Harry’ dude is texting you.  Want me to tell him to fuck off?”

“Nope,” Louis said as he pushed himself off of the chair and toward the bed.  He motioned for Eli to give him his phone, which Eli did after a few shakes of the head.

“I really don’t get why you talk to him,” Eli said, bracing his arms behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

Louis spoke almost absentmindedly as he moved his fingers to reply to Harry’s text, letting the boy know he was on his way.  “If you actually get to know him, he’s very sweet, and fun, and just…good.”

“So is that where you’re going?”

Louis didn’t have the strength nor the desire to lie to him, because Eli was starting to sort of… _mean_ something to him (Louis tried not to cringe at the thought). 

Louis tossed his phone on the bed as he bent over to tie his shoes.  “Yep.  We’re watching a movie.”

“You know he’s straight, right?  He has a girlfriend.”

“You know sexuality is fluid, right?” Louis asked over his shoulder.  “And I’m not trying to…do any of that anyway.  He’s my friend.”

“Okay then,” he heard Eli murmur.

 Eli was a cool guy, he really was.  He was chill, didn’t give Louis too much shit, and most of all, he could _relate_ to him.  He just really wished the guy didn’t have this weird distaste for Harry, since he and Harry were quickly becoming closer by the minute. 

Louis had begun spending so much time at Harry’s place that he almost forgot where his own dorm was located.  At first it had been just a way to get out of spending the night with random dudes, but now, Louis genuinely loved staying with Harry, laughing with him in the mornings, causing him distress and watching Harry try not to strangle him, trying and failing at using his appliances in order to make breakfast.  Harry was just so much _fun_ , and he gave Louis a break away from the real world, because every time he was with Harry, he didn’t think about any assignments he had to be doing, the long shift he would have to work the next day, or his shitty personal life.  Harry was simply _refreshing_.

Everything in Louis’ life was becoming easy for once.  He spent time with Harry, and every time he wasn’t doing that, he was with Eli, the band, or he was writing music.  Everything was a breeze.

And then Harry tried to kiss him.

It came out of _nowhere_ and it caused Louis’ mind to completely _flip_ in terms of who Harry was to him, all within seconds.  He’d gone from _Harry is my friend and we have so much fun together and I love making him laugh_ to _fuck, he tried to kiss me and now all I want to do is kiss him and I can’t stop thinking about it._

He’d never truly known the feeling of butterflies in his stomach until he’d witnessed Harry, leaned over him, his eyes deep and endlessly lost as he stared at Louis like he was the best thing in the world.  Louis had gone soft immediately—he’d forgotten about Eli, about the fact that he’d been calling Harry ‘just his friend’ the entire time, about the girlfriend the boy probably _still had_.  He’d forgotten about _everything_ and just focused on the fact that they were about to kiss and Louis’ heart was eventually going to melt out of his chest—

And then it just…didn’t happen.

 

~*~

 

“That was absolutely epic,” Marcus said after they’d just gotten done with one of their gigs.

Louis could fully connect with that statement, because it’d been the first performance of another one of his original songs, and the crowd had seemed to love it.

“Wish Harry would’ve been here to see it,” Liam said, going over to pull the guitar off and over Niall’s head as the lights on the platform they’d been performing on went off.  “He hasn’t spoken to us in so long.”

Niall knit his eyebrows together.  “I thought I saw him earlier.  He was sitting over there with Zayn,” the boy said, gesturing to the now empty table in the distance, multiple moving bodies and servers occupying their vision.

“And he didn’t even come talk to us?  God, he probably hates us,” Marcus muttered.

Liam glared at him.  “No, he hates _you_.”

Louis’ confusion heightened as he watched their exchange, but he didn’t get to dwell on it before Eli was hopping onto the stage and approaching Louis with open arms.

Louis _had_ been pretty bummed that he hadn’t seen Harry the entire night, but he also hadn’t seen Harry in person in quite a while, so it wasn’t like he didn’t expect it.  He and Harry had been texting a bit, probably in order to pretend that they weren’t _actually_ distancing themselves from each other, even though they clearly were.  Louis didn’t care, anyway.  He was just going to appreciate the fact that he had Eli here to congratulate him on his performance and take his mind off of things.

He, Eli, Zayn and Niall had just been off to a quiet corner of the stage, making small talk as Eli talked extensively about how good their performance was.  Louis wanted to fully give all his attention to the flattering words and compliments, but he couldn’t help the way his mind drifted.  All he kept thinking about was what the fuck he even did to Harry, why the boy was being so distant and douchey.  Yes, they’d almost kissed, so what?  It didn’t mean anything—it didn’t break any dynamic in their relationship.  It wouldn’t mean anything if they did, because kissing wasn’t a thing that Louis classified as a big deal.

Harry was, as always, giving him the cold shoulder without telling Louis exactly why he was doing so.

It got worse when Harry actually came up to the stage (it turned out he was, indeed, _there_ ), talked with Liam and Marcus, and ignored Louis completely.  It stung, but Louis just focused his full attention on Eli and attempted to forget about it all.

It wasn’t until Eli had left that Louis realized that Harry had left too, which finally sparked a reaction from Louis.

“Hey,” Louis had said as he approached the boys on the stage.  “Where’s Harry?  I just saw him.”

“I’m pretty sure Marcus pissed him off,” Liam said.

“I was saying _sorry_ —“

Louis knit his eyebrows together in frustration as he put one hand up.  “What did you guys do?”

Louis received nothing in return but a bunch of the boys staring at each other, and then at him.  Zayn laughed into Niall’s shoulder for a second, and Marcus coughed into his fist.  Obviously, all of them knew _something_ , yet were so bent on keeping Louis in the dark.

Louis bit the inside of his cheek before he spoke.  “If you guys don’t tell me what you did to Harry in the next five seconds I will literally bite every single one of your fingers off—“

“I, uh—I might’ve hooked up with his girlfriend…on multiple occasions,” Marcus said slowly, his voice so low Louis could barely hear it.  “He found out.  They broke up a while ago, actually.”   He tried to add a laugh at the end of it, which only ended up sounding like a nervous series of breaths.

“You did _what_?” Louis asked, already advancing toward Marcus before the end of his sentence.

Both Niall and Liam quickly moved to hold his arms back, Marcus’ eyes beginning to bear a hint of fear as he leaped over to hide behind his drum set.

The first thing Louis’ mind went to (after plotting Marcus’ death) was that _that_ was probably the reason Harry’d been so off and sad—why he’d just stormed off without even saying bye to anybody.  Harry’s girlfriend had irked Louis since the first day he’d seen her, but if Harry was actually _heartbroken_ because of her right now, _someone_ was going to pay for it.

He already knew why the boys hadn’t told him.  All of them had this weird conspiracy relating to the fact that he and Harry were growing close; all of them were certain that Louis was only with him in plans to eventually hook up with him and then throw him to the curb, no matter how many times Louis told them that wasn’t the case.

“You know what?” Louis said, finally pausing his attempts at escaping Niall and Liam’s grasp.  “I’m gonna murder you later.  Right now, I’m gonna go check on Harry.”

“Louis, this is _not_ the time to try your shot at Harry—“

“That’s _not_ what I’m doing, okay?” Louis replied, looking Liam in the eye and trying his best to assure him.

Even though, he kind of was.

But _only_ because Harry had tried to kiss him first, and now that Louis had this brand new information, he felt as though there was no _reason_ they couldn’t kiss now! 

The tiny possibility that it wasn’t _Louis’_ fault that Harry was acting all different provided Louis with a sort of comfort.  Even though it still killed him that Harry was sad and that it was potentially because of heartbreak (Louis would still murder Marcus later), Louis was glad it wasn’t because of anything _he_ did.

Louis was going to talk to him and make him feel better.  And maybe even kiss him, but that was beside the point.

 

~*~

 

Louis came to terms with a few things after a couple of weeks of being back to his comfortable place of being attached at the hip with Harry.

One, he should’ve never kissed Harry.  Two, Harry didn’t give a shit about the breakup with his girlfriend in the least and it was quite amusing to Louis (because he’d always gotten bad vibes from her anyway).  And Three, he _never_ should’ve kissed Harry, because now he was ruined for anybody else.

Kissing Harry for the first time gave Louis the weirdest, most ethereal, completely _awed_ feeling he’d ever felt.  He’d always looked at Harry’s lips and known kissing the boy would be fun, but it was so much _more_. 

It was magical.  Even admitting that took a lot from Louis, because he didn’t believe in cringy shit like that, but he couldn’t deny that it was.  He didn’t want to kiss anyone else after that.  He didn’t want to _ever_ kiss anyone else, and that was terrifying to the highest degree.  Louis was fucking _scared_.

But every time he was in front of Harry and they were _alone_ , that fear seemed to become outweighed by his never ending desire to experience kissing Harry again, and he would find himself just pulling the boy in.  Harry would melt under him, not even attempting to resist, which did absolutely _nothing_ to help Louis shake this new addiction.

An addiction was the best way he could describe it.  Kissing Harry seemed to spark some new sensation that Louis had never felt before, as though their lips were scientifically confirmed to have been perfect for each other.  Maybe if Louis was better at science, he would actually get down to figuring this out, because it was _weird_.

So not only was Harry his overall favorite person, Harry was also the owner of the best lips Louis had ever kissed, and Louis was aware that this combination had the potential to cause problems in the future, but for now, he was just going to kiss Harry all he wanted.

Another strange thing was, Louis wasn’t a guy that kissed people just to _kiss_.  It was usually tedious to him during sex, and he only did it because the other guy wanted it.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed without it leading directly into hooking up, but he found himself doing that with Harry, and just—what?

But there was nothing more, because Harry wasn’t bothered by the fact that he was talking to Eli, and they (thankfully) didn’t ever express any _feelings,_ and Harry continued to be just as much as a supportive friend to him as he’d always been.

And then Harry was acting strange again.  He was being distant and Louis was hearing about him making out with guys and—had he used Louis to just get his first experience with a guy out of the way?  Louis could admit, that hurt just a bit.

Sometimes, Louis just wished the boy would tell him what was wrong.  Louis knew he was going through problems with his family, _himself_ , school, but only through vague things Harry mentioned sometimes.  He would let out these vague statements and then ignore everyone, and Louis felt that he finally understood why the boys hated when he disappeared.  When Harry did it, Louis felt lost and betrayed.

 

~*~

 

“You know Harry’s birthday is coming up?” Louis asked one day as he was sat on his bed, his textbook on his lap as he attempted to study.  “And he hasn’t even said anything about it, even though he loves being the center of attention.  Isn’t that weird?”

“Sure,” Niall replied.  He was laying in the empty bed on the opposite side of the room, Zayn snuggled close next to him as they “studied” as well (even though their studying mostly consisted of giggling, kissing, and making Louis queasy).

“ _Zayn_ ,” Louis said a bit aggressively as he sat up straighter.  “Is that not strange to you?”

Zayn blinked at Louis for a moment, seemingly thinking about something as he took a while to speak up.  “Don’t care to be honest.”  (Louis was aware Zayn and Harry were fighting and he wished they would both stop being idiots and get over it.)

Louis huffed before bringing the end of his pen to his lips in order to chew on it.  “God, Harry is so dramatic.”

Harry hadn’t reached out to Louis in a while, and it quite offended him.  They’d had a serious heart to heart moment just a couple of days ago in which Harry had finally fucking _exploded_ and admitted he hated the fact that Louis slept with Eli (so it was official, Louis was done with Eli, he didn’t make the rules), so Louis thought they’d be on good terms.  Apparently that wasn’t the case.

 

~*~

 

It was Louis’ idea to throw a party for him, although it was quite a challenge for everything to get organized in such short time.

The day of Harry’s birthday was when Louis truly realized It.

Everyone had been rushing in order to set up the party, and Louis had been going completely ballistic in order to make sure everything was perfect.  After letting the boys know that Harry _hated_ the color yellow, they still ended up getting decorations that _contained_ the color yellow, so really, how did they _not_ expect Louis to scream at them? 

After he’d demanded that all the yellow balloons be popped, Liam had to force him to take a minute or two in the corner to calm down, assuring him that Harry would still love the party either way.

“Dude, I’ve _never_ seen you put in so much effort just to get some guy to fuck you,” Marcus had laughed as he walked by Louis, patting him on the shoulder.

While the statement was shrewd and put Louis on edge, Louis also couldn’t deny the blatant truth behind it.  He hadn’t even realized it.  Louis really _hadn’t_ ever put this much effort into _any_ guy before, yet here he was, running around and yelling at people and popping balloons because he was so bent on making sure Harry loved the party, so that the boy wouldn’t be so sad and distant anymore and would finally smile.  What had gotten _into_ Louis?

That was Part One of Louis realizing certain…things.

Part Two came when they kissed and Louis realized that he wasn’t sure of how far he wanted to go with Harry, because he was _nervous_.  Louis Tomlinson.  _Nervous_ because he and a guy were getting pretty steamy with each other and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for where it was headed.  Louis was beginning to grow certain he had been transported to a parallel universe.

It was just…Harry was so soft and pliant, but he still had big hands, and lips that surged forward in order to engulf Louis’ mouth into his, and—Louis was attracted to him.  He’d been attracted to him since the first day he saw him, but now he was certain Harry was attracted to _him_ too, because there was no denying the way the boy looked him up and down sometimes.  It flustered Louis to a high degree, made him weak and confident at the same time, and Harry had no idea.

As they kissed on the waterbed, electricity spreading throughout the entire room every time they tasted each other, Louis had experienced more desire for a person than he’d felt _ever_.  With Harry’s hands roaming his waist, pulling him closer, moving his head just the right way so that he could kiss him how he wanted, Louis couldn’t remember another time that he’d ever wanted a person this much.

He was sure it was just a _physical_ want, however.  None of that other soft stuff.

He remembered thinking _stop me, someone please stop me_ , because he knew with no doubt in his mind that he was going to end up going very far with Harry and regretting it later.  Harry was so much more to him than all of those other guys he shagged and moved on from, and he didn’t want the boy to think otherwise.

When Liam had walked in on them, Louis had known he was fucked, because he’d sworn up and down to all of the boys that he’d never done anything with Harry.  The thought kind of made him laugh once he went downstairs in order to make sure they didn’t cut Harry’s cake without him.

He’d gotten a few whistles upon entering back into the party, which he figured was due to his messy hair and disheveled shirt, but he shut all of them down quickly.

Although Louis was basically careless with when and where he kissed Harry, he still didn’t want to make the boy uncomfortable. 

Part Three of Louis’ realization had come when he saw Harry talking to Cecile on the balcony, which lit a flaming fire of jealousy within Louis, which, admittedly, he already knew he had.  No, he didn’t have _feelings_ for Harry, yes, he got jealous when other people made advances on him, because no one else was worthy, and he’d be damned if he’d let someone else come along and steal his constant source of happiness.  Simple as that.

It was after the party, when only the boys were left to clean everything up, even though Harry had been offering numerous times to help.

“No, we definitely owe you,” Marcus had said as he continued to sweep the floor of the rec room.

“Just go home.  Take a nap.  Enjoy the rest of your birthday,” Liam had said.

First of all, Louis was definitely not planning on cleaning, and secondly, he wasn’t quite prepared to say goodbye to Harry yet as the boy stood halfway out the door. 

“I’ll walk you to your car, since it’s nighttime and scary, and stuff,” Louis had said, walking up to Harry and placing his hands in his pockets.  “Want you to be safe.”

“Says the guy that literally almost got me in a car wreck by claiming he was bleeding on the side of the road,” Harry replied, although he continued to step to the side and make space for Louis to walk alongside him nonetheless.

Louis giggled.  “I couldn’t think of any other to way to get you out of that fucking apartment.”

“So you used yourself as bait?”

Louis remained silent for a moment as he kicked his feet along the sidewalk, a car screeching in the distance.  “Yeah.  I mean, who else could I have used?”

“Anyone.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Louis said sarcastically, causing Harry to huff out a chuckle.  “Everyone knows I’m the only one that truly matters to you around here.”

There was comfortable silence between them for a moment as they both walked, the soft sounds of their breathing adding to the collectiveness of it all.

“You’re not wrong,” Harry finally said, his voice as soft as the cool air.

Louis felt his heart stutter in what he was certain was the first time in his _life_.  He’d had a steady boyfriend before—one messy, somewhat official thing (that Louis felt didn't even really count)—in his junior year of high school, and that was the only other time he’d ever come even a _fraction_ as close to feeling how he’d felt right then, alone with Harry as they walked down the sidewalk and understood just how much they meant to each other.  He and Harry weren’t even _dating_.

Instead of choosing to acknowledge it, however, Louis took the easy, accusatory route.

“But, I don’t know.  Maybe I’m a close second to Cecile,” Louis added with a laugh he just had to hope sounded authentic.  “You two were getting quite cozy back there.”

Harry side-eyed him as he dragged his feet across the pavement, an obvious grin threatening to poke at his lips that he successfully suppressed.  “We just sort of…made up,” he said with a shrug.  “Don’t have to have that situation hanging over my head anymore.”  Louis couldn’t miss the slight way one side of his lips curved upward.

Louis nodded in understanding, even though by the end of Harry’s sentence his head had filled itself with endless questions, along with what almost seemed like _worries_.

“You’re not—“ Louis started, snorting for a moment.  “You’re not genuinely starting to _like_ her, are you?”

At that, Harry bursted into glorious laughter that Louis was quite unprepared for.  Nevertheless, the sound of it soothed Louis’ heart as he giggled right along with Harry, feeling the tension begin to leave his body.

“And why would that matter to you?” Harry asked jokingly, his car starting to come into view as they approached the curb he’d parked on.

Louis sucked his teeth.  “Don’t think it’d be the _best_ birthday gift to yourself, getting back with the girl that cheated on you.”

“True,” Harry replied, a cheeky grin on his face as he looked down at his feet.  “The award for best birthday gift definitely goes to you.”

One of Louis’ eyebrows quirked up as Harry came to a stop by his car, turning around to face Louis so that his back was against it.

“Are you talking about us making out?”

Immediately, Harry went red-cheeked, and Louis _thrived_ off of it, had to stop himself from reaching out and pinching the boy’s face.  He was sure his addiction to teasing and making Harry blush was getting out of hand.

Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he shook his head.  “That too, but…” he practically choked, scratching the side of his neck as he bit back a grin.  “I was talking about the party that everyone helped you put together.  Thank you.”

It was probably the tenth time that night that Harry had thanked him—Louis had practically been _drowned_ by all of Harry’s appreciation, along with the fact that he’d been more soft, sweet, and clingy than usual.  Louis wasn’t complaining; Harry had been distant and sad, but now he was close and happy.  All was well.

Louis was tempted to kiss him again, right then and there.  With Harry’s starry eyes looking right into his, innocent and oblivious, the boy probably secretly _wanting_ Louis to kiss him again but being too shy to say it, Louis was tempted to swallow him whole.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” Louis asked instead, his voice quiet.

Harry shook his head, and Louis was certain he saw the boy’s pupils dilate, if only for half a second.  “No,” he said, his mouth open, but not bearing sound.

“Nervous?” Louis asked instead, an eyebrow raised.

Harry’s mouth spread into a lopsided grin as they held each other’s gaze.  “Maybe…”  he started, both of them going quiet and Louis hanging onto his every word.  He lived for moments like these—where he pushed the boy just a little harder and he came undone.  It was happening right before his very eyes.

“But it’s a good kind of nervous,” Harry finished, seeming as though he’d contemplated his answer for a few seconds and was satisfied with it.

Louis’ heart did that weird _fluttering_ thing again, and he didn’t fucking know what was _happening_. 

“Okay then…” Louis replied, now playing with his fingers like an anxious high school boy.  “Goodnight, I guess.”  He grinned sweetly, Harry grinning back as he reached in his back pocket for his keys.

Louis had no idea what had come over him, but he stepped forward, faintly gripping the side of Harry’s jacket before inching in toward his cheek, and pressing a short, albeit sweet, kiss into it.  He didn’t even realize what he was doing until he’d already done it, and he was stepping back, and Harry was running his palm across his _own_ cheek, and he was blindly reaching behind himself for his car door. 

“Goodnight,” Harry replied, obviously returning back to his overly blushy state as his face became flushed once again.

Louis’ heart race had picked up drastically.

And he stood there, knowing he held a terrified look on his face, just like the first night they’d kissed, but having no idea how to get rid of it.  Louis watched as Harry drove off into the night, his own heart still not having stopped being fucking _annoying_.

He…he liked him.  He liked him.  _Fuck._ Fucking _shit_ hell.  Damn.

 

~*~

 

None of this was supposed to happen.  Fuck, Louis hadn’t _wanted_ any of this to happen, but soon he found himself spending more time with Harry, _discreetly_ sleeping a bit closer to the boy in his bed, and just fucking _liking_ him.  Louis hadn’t dealt with having genuine feelings for a guy in quite a while, so he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with them.

He was scared—no, he was _horrified_.  He was horrified and anxious and paranoid and worried and all of the above, because this wasn’t something that was supposed to happen.  Nowhere in Louis’ plans for his first year at uni had he envisioned actually, genuinely _liking_ a boy in a romantic way.  He had been certain that something like that would never happen for him again, because he absolutely _hated_ the feeling of it.  The feeling that he might _need_ someone—that without a certain someone there would be an empty space.  The mere thought shook Louis to no end, because his independence and determination to stand tall all by himself was the only thing he leaned on.  Now that he was beginning to feel like he would probably…possibly, _die_ without Harry around, he was scared and feeling a tad bit pathetic.

He even told Harry about his dad leaving, not holding back in sharing the details of his dad’s reasoning.  He hadn’t even told the boys (minus Niall) the details.  All they knew was that his father wasn’t in his life, and that was that, but for some reason, because of some unknown, unstoppable force, Louis felt free enough to tell Harry.

He wanted Harry— _all_ of Harry, but at the same time, he wanted no parts of Harry.  He didn’t want to ruin anything, because he and Harry were becoming so close they were the pure example of what best friends were.  Harry was too good; Louis didn’t deserve him.  He couldn’t imagine how heartbroken his best friend would be if anything _were_ to happen and Louis ended up inevitably fucking everything up.  Because that was what he was best at.  And that was why they could never be a reality.

 

~*~

 

“Have you seen Niall?  Blond hair, skinny legs?” Louis asked one of the many people roaming around backstage.  He figured the guy he was talking to was probably part of the next act that was going to go up on stage.

After the guy stared at him confusedly, eyebrows knit together with puzzlement, Louis gave up and moved to ask the next person that was walking past.  He’d already asked all of the boys where that blond-haired devil had disappeared to right after their gig, and since all of _them_ had no solid answers, Louis had resorted to asking complete strangers.

It seemed that with every day Louis tried his best to ignore his _feelings_ for Harry, they just grew more prominent. 

Harry didn’t come to every single one of their shows—that was never a thing he did, because he just didn’t have to.  But recently, it had started becoming more noticeable, and Louis was hyperaware of it during gigs because he couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t fully _get into_ the performance, sometimes didn’t even _strum_ right if his eyes searched the crowd and he didn’t see Harry anywhere.  It fucking sucked, because Louis had been doing perfectly well performing to crowds full of people before Harry had _ever_ waltzed into his life. Now the stupid boy had gone and made his presence a necessity.

The plan had been for Louis to keep his emotions and feelings about Harry to himself for the time being, because in no time, he figured, they would fade away.  No reason to tell Marcus, or Liam, or _Harry_ —no reason at all, considering they were never going to become an actual thing.  _Niall_ , however, was someone Louis had to tell.  When something was eating Louis up inside that he didn’t want a single person to know about, Niall was always the exception.

It took quite an extensive amount of time before Louis finally spotted Niall, right outside of the venue by the exit doors as he sucked his boyfriend’s face.  Louis sighed as he made his approach, because Niall ditching all of them to go make out with Zayn should’ve been his first guess.

Louis didn’t hesitate before pushing the exit door open, tugging Zayn away from Niall by grabbing the back of his shirt.

“ _Hey_ ,” Zayn muttered, not even getting a moment to pull himself together before Louis was pushing him back inside with hurried hands to his back.

“Sorry Zayn, love you, mean it, but I have to chat with Niall,” Louis replied, not even letting Zayn offer a response before closing the door behind the boy.

When Louis turned back around toward Niall, the boy’s cheeks were a noticeable red, even in the darkness of the evening that was beginning to approach. 

“What do you have to chat with me about?” the boy asked, so obviously trying to keep his voice at a calm, cordial tone despite the fact that he was probably planning Louis’ murder in his mind.

Immediately, Louis grew cold feet.  He began to play with the leather fabric of his gloves as he looked down at them, the words getting caught in his throat.  “I…”

Niall waited patiently, taking a step forward and not pressuring him to spit it out, nor scolding him for interrupting without a good reason.

Suddenly, the footsteps of people continuing to walk around, whether entering the venue, leaving the venue, or just going for a stroll around the scenery, became entirely too evident in Louis’ ears.

Louis finally brought his eyes up, looking around for a moment. 

“There’s too many people here,” Louis said.  “Can we do this somewhere else?”

Niall laughed for half of a second as he shoved his hands into his pockets.  “You don’t _know_ any of these people Louis.  I promise, they aren’t listening.”

“Still,” Louis replied, his fingers beginning to jumble together.  “I want to go someplace more private to tell you this.”

They shared gaze for a moment, and Louis was sure that his eyes were showcasing how weak and frail he was feeling inside.  The blond boy nodded in understanding, and that was why Louis loved him so much.

 

~*~

 

“Wait, I thought you guys were already dating,” Niall said.

Louis had poured his heart out.  For a good fifteen minutes, it felt like.  And _that_ was all the boy had to say after all of it.

They were in Louis’ dorm room, sat on top of his mangled bed sheets in pitch black darkness, the way Louis liked it.

Louis brought his knees up to his chest, not holding back in shooting Niall a glare that he probably couldn’t see.  “We’re not _dating_ , you idiot.”

Niall giggled for a moment, before realizing how seriously Louis was taking all of this and quieting down.  “I’m sorry.  I mean, all of the stuff you guys do is basically what dating is.”

“No it’s not, okay?” Louis replied.  “We’re not exclusive.”

“When was the last time you slept with anyone else?”

Louis remained quiet for a moment, letting the boy’s question sink into his brain and drive him to the brink of madness.  It was true.  Louis hadn’t had casual sex with any random dude in longer than he’d like to admit, even though his sex life had previously been one of the things that kept him sane, kept him feeling like he had value.

“Listen…” Louis started, voice gentle and quiet.  “I…don’t laugh at me or anything.  This is gonna sound really cheesy and just—just corny, but…God, it’s…”  Louis knit his eyebrows together as he stared down at the blanket, trying to figure out how it had come to this.

Niall waited patiently, not moving his gaze any place else but the crown of Louis’ head as the boy continued to look down, fearing any genuine connection through eye contact.

“It’s like magic,” Louis whispered, beginning to feel something forming in his throat.  “The way we fit, the way we get along, the way we _don’t_ get along sometimes yet we always find away around it.  Being with Harry is magical.  That’s…what it feels like with him.”

He went quiet for a moment, trying to ignore how utterly ridiculous he was probably sounding.

Louis shook his head before he spoke up again.  “I’m probably making no sense—“

“You’re making _perfect_ sense, Louis,” Niall replied, reaching out to brush back Louis’ hair.  “In a way, you feel like you complete each other.  I can admit, I’ve never seen a stranger be able to put up with you so fast and effortlessly,” Niall laughed.

Louis let himself laugh a bit too, feeling the tension begin to exit his being.  “I…It’s probably why I’m not really hooking up with random guys anymore.  Harry fills that hole.  He fills that part of me that finds validation in letting someone have my body for a night.  Kissing Harry is better than sex, Niall,” Louis continued, now legitimately beginning to choke.  “It’s magical, and I fucking—I feel like I _need_ it.  All the time.  I need _him_.  I don’t want to need him…” Louis continued, the last few words broken as emotion began to overcome him.

Niall sighed deeply, reaching out to tug at Louis’ ankle.  “Don’t cry.”

Louis just shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut before anything could escape them.

“Don’t cry,” Niall repeated gently.  “It hurts me when you cry.”

Louis began sniffling, and quicker than he’d expected, the first tear trailed down his cheek, despite how hard he’d been struggling to hold it in.

“Louis,” Niall breathed, before reaching out and pulling the boy in, letting Louis empty his emotions against his neck as he sniffled.

Louis rarely _ever_ cried in front of _anyone_.  He didn’t want people to think he was weak, soft, or capable of human emotion, because then they would find ways to tap at his weaknesses, take advantage of him. 

“Do you think he likes me?” Louis asked weakly into Niall’s shoulder, followed by a sniffle.

“I have no idea Lou,” Niall replied.  “But if I’m being honest, all of this _magic_ stuff you’re talking about sounds pretty familiar.”

 

~*~

 

Louis had done the one thing he hadn’t done in a while, and that he’d started to resent doing ever since he’d gotten so attached to Harry.

But it was all Harry’s fault, anyway.

 _I can’t get enough of you_.

Those words were the only thing occupying Louis’ mind once he woke up in the middle of the night in a place he didn’t even remember falling asleep in.

He moved to get up, before finding himself weighed down by the feeling of some dude’s arm draped over his chest.  He shifted his head to the side, eyes meeting the sleeping figure of a guy with sandy hair and—his memory was beginning to jog a bit.  His name was Franco—or maybe Frankie?  Louis wasn’t sure at the moment.

 _I can’t get enough of you_.

Louis did his best to be gentle as he lifted the guy’s heavy arm off of his body and out of the way.  He had to feel around the dark room for his clothes as he stumbled around, and he tried to ignore the feeling of soreness and fatigue as he moved.  As he quietly slipped on his clothes as the minutes went by, his memory became better, and soon, he had all the blurry details of how exactly he’d ended up in this random apartment all figured out.

Louis was certain his shirt was on backwards, his hair was an absolute chaotic mess, and he probably had crust on his cheek, but he didn’t let those things stop him from opening the bedroom door and stumbling out into the hallway, feeling particularly shitty.

There were bottles all over the floor and splayed over the couches, a few people sleeping in the living room that’d probably passed out while getting ready to hook up, a stale scent of cigarettes and weed filling the air.

 _I can’t get enough of you_.

Louis felt like he was about to throw up.  Both from the words repeating in his head and the weird taste in his mouth that was beginning to bother him.

_I can’t get enough of you._

Harry had turned into one of them. Louis could see it, in his eyes, in his mouth, in his hands— _everything_.  The boy probably hadn’t even realized it yet, but eventually, it was going to happen.  Who could really like Louis because of who he _was_?  What _qualities_ did he have to offer as a person that someone “couldn’t get enough of”?  All he had was his body.  All he had was his body, and his hands, and his smooth eyes in order to make up for being a shitty, garbage human being that everyone always left in the end.

The thing was, Louis didn’t want to watch Harry leave.  He didn’t want to wait for it.  He wanted to end it early, push the boy away before it would eventually happen.

A little part of Louis tried to tell himself _no, Harry genuinely meant what he said, because he likes you too, just as much as you like him_ , but no, that couldn’t be true.  Things like that just weren’t true for Louis.  Harry was subdued by Louis’ touch and the heat that’d been beginning to form in the air between them, that his mind had become clouded with _desire_ , just like every other guy Louis had slept with.  Every other guy that texted Louis for a quick fix and then turned a blind eye to anything else he had to offer.

Harry meant so much more to Louis than that, so the fact that Louis had begun to get a gut feeling that Harry was turning _into_ one of them sent Louis’ paranoia spiraling out of control.

 _I can’t get enough of you_.

God, Louis should’ve never fucking kissed him, then they never would’ve gotten this far.  Louis never would’ve thought that maybe, just _maybe_ , he actually meant something to someone that wasn’t in the band.  He was such an idiot.

After Harry’d said that, Louis had left.  He’d left, stormed past the boys, ignored Liam’s arm attempting to tug him back as he questioned what was wrong—he just left, and distracted himself by wandering into a party happening at some person’s flat and conveniently finding a guy he’d hooked up with before.  It didn’t take long for them to fall in line with each other, for his rough hands to begin roaming Louis’ body as though it belonged to him, for the guy to drag Louis into one of the bedrooms, the entire flat whistling in encouragement.

 _This_ was Louis’ reality.  Not waking up next to Harry, being pleasantly surprised to find the boy already awake, sometimes looking at him, watching him and tricking Louis into thinking he actually mattered. 

Louis was dragging his feet through the empty streets of the night, trying to figure out how the hell he was going to get back to his dorm when he could barely even walk properly.

He wanted to go to Harry’s.  He always wanted to go to Harry’s.  He wanted to _live_ at Harry’s.

But he couldn’t, because that wasn’t a reality for him.

He slept better when he was with Harry.  When the boy was there to stroke his hair as he fell asleep, tell him quiet, sweet words in his ear in order to lull him.  Once, they even spooned, but it was only because Harry was so sleepy that he wasn’t even alert enough to offer Louis one of his harsh “no”'s.  Louis had fit behind him so perfectly (like magic).  It was the best night of sleep he’d ever had.

Louis was Harry’s first everything with a guy—it was so ridiculously obvious.  So there was a large possibility the boy was mistaking his lust and enthusiasm for new experiences for maybe…something more, or something. 

He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know when, but he made it to his dorm building eventually. 

Once he’d reached the hallway his room was on, he wasn’t surprised to find his front door occupied.

There they sat in front of his door, Liam, Marcus, Niall—all three of them—as though they’d been waiting for Louis to come, worried because he’d stormed out and because he’d shut off his phone and because they fucking _cared_.  Louis wished they didn’t care.  He wasn’t a person that people needed to care about, because all he did was let everyone down.

As soon as he reached them, and they’d quieted down, all of their eyes filled to the brim with concern as they turned toward him, Louis broke down.  Every tear that he’d held in through eons of suffering somehow escaped his eyes as he let himself be embraced by them, let his back be rubbed with comfort, allowed himself to bury his troubles in the middle of the hallway.  Without even _knowing_ why Louis was falling apart, they provided a safe haven for him as though it was their duty.

 

~*~

 

Okay, maybe Harry liked him back.

But?

Okay, but nothing.  Harry liked him.  Louis was just going to have to accept the fact that Harry genuinely had feelings for him and there was no way around it.  There was no denying it either, because even through the drunk haze that Louis had been floating through at that party, the words _I’m obsessed with you_ , paired with Harry’s pleading, fucking _sincere_ , bloodshot eyes were something that he couldn’t possibly try to explain away.

God, Harry liked him.  So much.  The boy had practically screamed it at him, and of all the things Louis had struggled to remember about that night, the boy’s words seemed to be sown to his brain.

They hadn’t talked in such a long time because of some sort of unspoken fight they’d been having ever since Louis left him hanging after the boy had said he couldn’t get enough of him.  Louis didn’t know why, and Harry probably didn’t know why either, but they just weren’t talking.

Louis didn’t know what to do.  Harry liked him, he liked Harry—now what?  The answer was easy, but Louis had been alive for far too long to think the easy route was going to actually be _easy_.

Still, Louis was tired of them not speaking to each other for no reason, and he knew with everything in his being that Harry wasn’t going to be the first one to break the silence, so he took it upon himself.

He showed up at Harry’s front door bearing experimental snacks he’d gotten from the international grocery store, hoping that it qualified as an apology for…whatever.

He wasn’t shocked to find Harry surprised when he’d opened his door and found Louis behind it.

“Let’s stop being idiots and make up,” Louis had said easily, before making his way past Harry and into his flat.

He heard Harry huff out one of his nervous, pseudo laughs as he closed the door.  “We were fighting?  I didn’t even know.”

“Sure you didn’t,” Louis replied, dumping his grocery bags on the counter.  “Snacks?”

Louis knew it was going to be a chore, balancing the weight of liking Harry, the weight of Harry liking him back, _and_ the weight of Harry thinking Louis didn’t know on his shoulders.  He was going to get through it, however.  He was going on tour with the band, which meant that soon, he’d be free of all of it, and his feelings for Harry would vanish as well, and everything would be fine.

Except it started to become increasingly harder to ignore how obvious Harry’s feelings were, what with the boy asking him on dates, looking at him a tad bit longer than usual, and being fucking _weird_.  It prompted Louis to think about all the past times, hints Harry might’ve dropped that flew right over Louis’ head, because he was so completely certain that no one could genuinely like him in the way Harry (obviously) did.

Part of him just wished the boy would _say_ it already.  Another part of him wished the exact opposite, and was almost even horrified at the thought of such a thing happening.  Everything was just so effortless the way it was.  They slept together, they shared each other’s presence, made each other laugh, meant the world to each other without all of the “official” stuff—Louis didn’t want to ruin all of that.  What if they actually dated and then broke up, and Louis didn’t have his best friend anymore?

 

~*~

 

Louis had written his softest song yet.

He sat in the corner of his dorm room against the wall, all of the lights off as he felt around the neck of his guitar in order to strum the right chords.  He made a vow to himself that the song was never going to see the light of day, not even if the boys needed a new, soft song to save their lives.

God, he’d thought he was going to be okay with all of this pretending and ignoring and leaving and—he just wasn’t.  He wasn’t.

He was leaving with the band earlier than expected and he couldn’t even muster up the courage to _tell_ Harry, which clearly meant Louis wasn’t as right as he thought he’d been about how easy it would be to leave Harry and drop his feelings for him.

Louis drew in a breath as he let his head fall forward, allowing it to rest on top of his guitar as he sniffled.  He _wasn’t_ going to cry.  Not alone, not in the dark like some pathetic, lovesick loser.

What was he going to do without Harry?  Harry kept him happy, kept him grounded, kept him from falling apart under the pressure of the band that was beginning to grow exponentially.

Louis felt around his cheek for tears, feeling relieved to find that it was dry, even though it didn’t do much for the fact that he was feeling sufficiently devastated.

He would never find anyone like Harry again.  Maybe he could move on from Harry eventually and try to live with the boy not being in his life anymore, but there was no one else like him.  It was almost like Harry was made specifically _for_ Louis.  _That_ was how perfectly they just…went together.

Louis was certain he’d just sat there in the farthest corner of his room, writing songs about Harry for about two hours.  He just couldn’t stop.  He’d try to write something that didn’t have anything to do with Harry, but once the song was finished, it always ended up being about the cherubic, curly-haired dickhead.

 

~*~

 

“Why can’t you just let yourself have this?” Liam asked one day after Louis had barged into his place and ransacked his mini fridge for the ingredients needed for an ice cream sundae.

“What are you talking about Li?” Louis asked exhaustedly, topping off his bowl with entirely too much whipped cream as he crashed on the single couch in the boy’s room.

“I’m talking about _you_ ,” Liam huffed, gesturing at Louis as he sat on his bed.  “Why can’t you just let yourself be happy?”

Louis laughed dryly as he continued to mix around the strawberry ice cream and chocolate syrup in his bowl.  “You don’t know what makes me happy, Liam.”

“ _Harry_ makes you happy,” Liam replied, slumping against his pillow with exhaustion.  “You like him, he likes you—just fucking get your shit together already.  It’s affecting your stage presence and everyone is tired of it.”

Louis’ spoon had been in the air, inches away from his mouth before he set it back down in his ice cream.  “How do you know _I_ like Harry—wait, how do even you know _Harry_ likes _me_?”

“Because—um, because you said it,” Liam replied quickly, scratching the side of his neck.  “I remember you mentioning it once.”

Louis bit his bottom lip as he slumped in his seat, wishing his (lack of a) romantic life wasn’t at the core of everything right about now. 

“And as for you liking him, well, it’s just obvious,” Liam said with a shrug.  “Haven’t seen you this way with anyone since…” He drew his brows together as he took a moment to think.  “Ever, actually.”

“Let me explain something to you, Liam,” Louis replied, before licking away at his spoon and sitting up in his seat, leaned toward the boy across the room.  “I want my best friend.  Getting together with him would ruin everything, and then I wouldn’t have that anymore.  We would eventually break up.  Everybody does.  Everybody leaves.  I don’t want him to.  Do you understand now?”

“So, you think officially dating Harry would cause him to eventually leave?”

“Yes.  I would fuck up in _some_ way—I just _know_ it,” Louis replied, sucking his teeth.  “I’m not made for relationships.  It would absolutely…it would just crush me, being the one to break his heart.   Making him leave.”

“Remember when you drunkenly pushed him into a pool?” Liam asked, his voice calm and almost knowing.

Louis slowed down his movements of stuffing his mouth with ice cream, very skeptical of where Liam was going with this as he nodded.

“And when you poured cold water down his back?”  Liam asked.  Louis didn’t get a chance to answer before Liam was asking him another question.  “Also, when you fucked his literal enemy—“

“For the last time, I didn’t know he _cared_ —“

“And there’s probably so much more shit that I don’t even know about,” Liam continued, as though Louis hadn’t spoken.  “Yet he still hasn’t left.  He’s still right by your side, and you’re the _first_ person he looks at whenever he comes to any of our gigs.  What makes you think of all things, a _relationship_ would come between you two?”

Louis sat there, almost at a loss for words as he allowed Liam’s words to settle around him.

“I…” Louis started, before realizing he didn’t quite know what he wanted to say to that.

“Allow yourself to be happy for once,” Liam said.

Louis played around with his spoon for a bit, feeling thoroughly torn and frustrated.  “I’m fucking scared, okay?” Louis huffed as he looked down at his lap.  “Not everyone’s living in this fairytale land you _claim_ you live in—“

“You mean the one where soulmates exist?” Liam asked, an annoying smirk on his face.

Louis rubbed a hand down his face, feeling as though this whole conversation was causing him to age rapidly. 

“I still don’t believe in that shit, but I think that if _anyone_ were to be… _that_ to me,” Louis started, his voice level dropping drastically.  “It would definitely be him.”

They remained quiet for a moment, and Louis had to look up to see what exactly was going on in Liam’s head.  He wasn’t surprised to find the boy with the smuggest look on his face, his fingers drumming against his thigh.

“Have you ever seen his tattoo?” Liam asked, the cheeky, almost excited grin on his lips starting to eat Louis alive.

“God, shut up Liam,” Louis sighed as he pushed himself up and off of the couch.  “I’m gonna go finish this somewhere else, because I’m sitting here pouring my heart out and all you’re doing is feeding me your theories—“

“You haven’t _seen_ it?” Liam asked incredulously, sitting up all the way as Louis neared the door in order to exit.

“I spend half of my life around him.  I would’ve seen if he had the same tattoo as me,” Louis replied as he reached for the doorknob.  “I mean, he doesn’t like taking off his shirt because he’s shy—“

His sentence was cut off by the sound of Liam completely _erupting_ in laughter, Louis slowly turning around to find the boy with his eyes bright, nearly ready to leap out of his bed. 

“Oh my god,” Liam said, before covering his mouth with both hands.  “Louis.”

“What the fuck are you on about…” Louis started, but his sentence lost heat at the end as he allowed himself to think—actually _think_.

He’d been shirtless around Harry multiple times—he rarely ever slept with a shirt _on_.  Surely if Harry had the same—if Harry _saw_ it, he would’ve _said_ some—he would’ve told him— _fuck_.

The little shit.

“I’m…” Louis started, hand now gripping the doorknob as he began to grow increasingly on edge.  He tried to tune out the sounds of Liam’s stifled giggling as he observed Louis’ mental discovery.  “I still don’t believe in it,” Louis said with a huff, before swinging the door open, intent to forget about even the _possibility_ of this being a reality.  “And I’m gonna murder that boy.”

 

~*~

 

_I still love you, even if you don’t feel the same way.  I’ll still love you, Louis.  I’ll never make you feel bad for not loving me back._

God, the love of Louis’ life was such a beautiful, glorious dork.

Louis had steadily blinked his eyes open after getting through another outrageously peaceful experience of sleep for the fourth night in a row.  The final night in a row.

He heard birds chirping from up high, which placed a tiny smile on his lips, due to the fact that everything in the last four days had seemed surreal, and almost like he was in heaven.

Harry had told Louis he loved him— _finally_ —and Louis had told him he loved him back, because of _course_ he loved him back.  How could he possibly _not_ have loved Harry back?  In just a few months, Harry had become his world, his light in the darkness, his shred of innocence, everything he always thought he’d never get.  Harry was his everything.

Ever since then, he and Harry had spent all of their time practically glued to each other, laying in bed tracing the details of each other’s faces, studying the hues of each of their irises, breathing each other’s air, and not wanting to be anywhere else.

This was the morning Louis and the band had to leave in order to board the plane.

He and Harry were currently sleeping on the front porch, blankets draped over their bodies as they swayed back and forth on the peach colored hammock.  Louis was curled up behind Harry, arms comfortably wrapped around his waist as the boy continued to sleep and resemble a pure example of the word “soft”.

It’d only been four nights, yet Harry could never choose which he liked better—falling asleep holding and facing Louis, or being spooned from behind.  Louis didn’t know which one he liked more either, but he could admit Harry was definitely made for being the little spoon.

Harry’s hair smelled heavenly, like coconut, driving Louis to inch his head forward in order to bury his nose into it, all as the boy continued to sleep the morning away.

This was his.  This boy, pressed impossibly close against his body, fingers faintly brushing against his arms as though it was second nature, was _Louis_ ’.And Louis was also still struggling to grasp the fact that they legitimately _belonged_ together because of some weird, voodoo print on their backs that he'd been certain held no meaning.

Louis was happy.  He was the happiest he’d ever been in his life and it was all because of Harry.

He was in the middle of laying there, sniffing Harry’s hair and admiring his existence when he was interrupted by a hand tugging at his ankle.

Louis whipped his head around to find Marcus at the foot of their hammock, rubbing one of his eyes as he yawned.

“You’ve gotta get up.  Pack your shit,” the boy mumbled.  “Our flight leaves in like, an hour.”

Louis immediately shook his head, turning back to bury himself in the crook of Harry’s neck.  “No.”

“Dude,” Marcus said, before leaning down and shaking the boy’s ankle again.  “We’re not missing our flight because of you.”

Louis pulled Harry closer against his body, the boy starting to stir a bit before he went still.  “’M not leaving.  Go without me.”

“Listen, just because you and Harry decided to get together at the _last_ possible second—“

“ _Hey_ , let me handle this,” Louis heard, unable to know exactly who it was due to having his face buried in Harry’s hair.  It sounded like Liam.

He heard footsteps shuffling closer to him, and he almost jumped out of his skin when he heard Liam’s voice, now significantly closer and right up against his ear as the boy seemed to be crouching down.

“Louis,” the boy said, his voice calm and almost patronizing.  “We have to leave.”

“Harry’s coming with us, you know,” Louis replied.

“I know.  You’ve said it like fifty times,” Liam said.  “But he doesn’t have a plane ticket yet.  I’m sure he’ll get one soon though, and he’ll join us on tour just like he said he would.  But we’re leaving _today_.”

Louis felt his eyes beginning to sting, his entire being becoming broken at even the _possibility_ of spending time away from Harry for more than two minutes.  He couldn’t do it.  He’d _just_ gotten the boy in his arms and—fuck, he couldn’t do it. 

“Look, Louis,” Liam started, prompting the boy to finally detach his face from Harry in order to look at him.  “It’s normal.  When soulmates first officially get together, they’re quite inseparable and don’t even want to leave the other to go to the bathroom.  I’m just realizing now that I probably should’ve told you that…”

“I’m not leaving,” was all Louis had to offer as a reply.

“The most you’re probably going to be apart is _two days_.”

Louis remained silent as he stroked Harry’s waist with gentle fingers.

It seemed that Liam gave up as he moved to stand, entering back into the beach house.

Louis figured he’d gotten what he wanted, and the boys were going to finally stop pestering him.  The tour didn’t matter anyway—at least not as much as fucking _Harry Styles_ laying in his arms right now, containing all the beauty in the world. 

Louis tried to go back to sleep as they continued to lay there, but when Harry began to stir awake, he threw all efforts of sleep out of the window.

Of all things that a person could do when waking up, the boy woke up _giggling_.

Louis leaned over Harry’s shoulder, just to get a peek at his dimples as the boy's eyes remained closed and sleepy.

“What’s funny?” Louis asked, keeping his tone gentle.

Harry ran a hand down the side of his face like a cat.  “I just had a really crazy dream,” the boy replied, his voice all sorts of tired, groggy, and addictive.

Louis moved his hands over Harry’s waist in order to get him to turn over, the boy’s eyes immediately going bright like the sun as Louis embraced both sides of his face.

“Tell me all about it,” Louis said, continuing to caress Harry’s cheeks as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against his.

He stroked a thumb over Harry’s rosy cheek as the boy did as told, going into detail about the bunnies and the clouds and all of the ridiculous shit that was causing Louis to smile like a complete idiot because of how in love he was.

“We should sleep out here every day,” Harry said at some point, reaching toward one of Louis’ hands and lacing their fingers together.

“We should,” Louis agreed, gently closing his eyes as he released an easy breath.  It took him only a few seconds to clear his cloudy mind enough to remember _why_ they couldn’t sleep there every day.  “Oh, but we can’t.  This is our last day here.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows as he shuffled a bit closer to Louis.  “It is?  That was so _fast_.”

“I _know_ ,” Louis replied, brushing his thumb across Harry’s knuckles.  “And the boys are trying to get me to leave without you today.”

Harry was already shaking his head before the end of Louis’ sentence, moving forward to bury his face in Louis’ neck as he held onto his hand tighter.  Louis brought his other arm to Harry’s waist, pulling him in.

“You’re leaving?” Harry asked, his voice quiet and weak, as though he was scared of the answer.

“No, love,” Louis replied, rubbing soothing shapes into Harry’s back.  “I’m not leaving without you.  They would have to tie me up and drag me.”

“Good,” Harry replied, before pressing a single, sweet kiss into Louis’ neck and causing his entire body to light up.

“I love you,” Louis whispered against his ear.

“I love you too.”

It was probably the thousandth time they’d said in just a few days, because it was simply lots of fun to repeat to one another. 

They remained silent as Harry continued to breathe against his skin for a while, and then Louis spoke up.

“I have to piss, are you coming with?”

“Of course,” Harry mumbled.

 

~*~

 

Eventually, the boys actually _did_ manage to get Louis to pack up his stuff and leave, which ended in both Louis and Harry tearing up as though they’d never see each other again, a very dramatic and suffocating hug that lasted a good five minutes, and Louis flipping every single one of the boys off every time they tried to talk to him afterward.

Louis wasn’t _aware_ of how ridiculously attached and stubborn they were being until it began to wear off after about two weeks.  Now that he _knew_ about the uncontrollable urges and the complete irrationality that came with two halves finally coming together, Louis felt that he could control it—that he could stop himself when he felt that things were getting too out of hand.

When the unhealthy closeness was finally beginning to fade, and Louis and Harry could actually go five minutes without touching each other in any way, Liam took the liberty of telling Louis that there was something else he was going to have to be mindful about controlling: sexual attraction.

It was so fucking _convenient_ that he and Harry had gotten together right before Louis was supposed to attend meetings, rehearsals, and be a fucking _professional_ for once.  Now he also had to balance fighting the urge to shove Harry against a wall when the boy so much as _looked_ at him suggestively, which Harry had been doing a lot of lately.

He wanted to isolate himself from the world to be with Harry.  He didn’t care about anything else, didn’t _see_ anyone else, and it was hard on him for quite a while.

 

~*~

 

“You’re leaving?” Harry asked.  He was sat upon a barstool by the coffee table, eating grapes from a bag as Louis had exited the bathroom and made a beeline for the door in order to exit their hotel room.

He had his guitar draped over his back, his lazily put-together ensemble for the day (a somewhat clean pair of track pants and one of Harry’s sweatshirts that smelled like perfume), and he’d been in such a rush for a rehearsal that he’d almost walked right past Harry.

“Yeah,” Louis replied, turning to face Harry with hesitance. “I’m already late.”

The boy still looked as though he belonged in bed, clad in baggy pants and a muscle tee that Louis very much adored.  He looked like a sleepy piece of art.

“Can I at least get a kiss?” Harry asked, before popping another grape into his mouth and moving to stand up.

“’Course,” Louis replied, grinning shyly and already anxious of where this was going.  He slowly lifted his guitar off and over his head, setting it against the wall as he braced himself for the challenge.  “ _One_ kiss…” Louis emphasized as Harry stepped toward him, chewing the remains of his grape.  “One kiss only.”  Louis put up one finger, touching Harry’s chest as the boy stepped up to him.

“I get it, I get it,” Harry said exhaustedly, before curving a hand around Louis’ lower waist and bringing him in.  “Just come here.”

Louis allowed himself to be pulled in, calming his breath and bracing his body for the sensation that would come once Harry’s lips touched his.  Harry’s hot breath against Louis’ bottom lip as he grew closer caused an unwarranted amount of energy to rush throughout Louis, making him desperate to feel Harry’s breath everywhere on his skin, to have the boy’s hands slide wherever they wanted on his body…

Harry kissed his lips gently, moving one of his hands to Louis’ chin in order to caress it with his fingers, and then he—he pulled back.

It took a moment for Louis to blink his eyes open as Harry’s head remained pressed against his, because—Harry had actually _listened_ to him for once when Louis had told him that he got only one kiss.

Louis was relieved, because he’d been melting by the second just from the feeling of being so close to the boy, and he knew without a doubt in his mind that if they kept going, he would’ve—

 Harry closed the space between them again, going back in with another kiss that was less hesitant and soft.  Louis, of course, fell into it, having no sense of control when Harry got a little more forceful and needy and irresistible in every fucking way.

Louis weaved his hands through Harry’s mess of “bedhead” curls as he felt the boy gently bite at his bottom lip, and he began to forget about rehearsal altogether.  He wanted every part of Harry’s body, every touch of his hands, every intense gaze granted by his emerald eyes—Louis wanted it _now_.

Louis placed a firm grip on Harry’s hips with both of his hands, taking charge and walking Harry back until he was pushed into the nearest wall, their kiss picking up ridiculous amounts of steam as they began to taste one another with the slide of their tongues.

He heard Harry hum under his breath as their thighs pressed together, their bodies as close as they could get as they continued to kiss wildly and with no restrain, only taking half a second or two to actually _breathe_.

Louis allowed his right hand to roam over Harry’s body, down his chest, teasing at the skin under his shirt, until his palm somehow made its way to the boy’s ass, his fingers splayed over it.

Harry broke the kiss for a moment to laugh in uneven breaths, wrapping his arms around Louis’ neck as he burrowed his lips into the boy’s shoulder.  Harry always got giggly and nervous when Louis did things like that, and Louis adored him for it.

Harry’s nervous nature seemed to disappear as quickly as it came, the boy beginning to suck deep, slow kisses into the crook of Louis’ neck and up the side of it.

He felt Harry’s hands toying with the zipper on his pants as the boy’s lips slowly made its way up, tongue sliding against Louis’ jaw as he continued to kiss his skin.

So.  This was _happening_.

Louis could even feel his hands vibrating with desire as he used both arms to pull Harry by his waist, causing him to be flush against his body.  Harry’s lips made their way back to Louis’ mouth as he pulled down Louis’ zipper and began to mess with the waistline on Louis’ trackies.

Louis couldn’t even remember where he had been headed out to just a few minutes before.

The sudden thought caused Louis to pull back, creating half a foot of space between Harry and him as the boy immediately grabbed uselessly to get him close again.

Harry blinked at him, his eyes bearing a mix of confusion, disappointment, and hunger.  His pupils were even dilated to such a degree that Louis hadn’t ever seen on him before.  Jesus _Christ_.

Louis brought a palm to his forehead, fighting the urge to dive right back in.  “I was doing something before this.  I was on my way somewhere, but I can’t remember.”

Harry reached out, his hand gripping the bottom hem of Louis’ shirt and sufficiently pulling him back in.  “That doesn’t matter…”

Their lips fell back into harmony with one another, Louis not even realizing they were moving until he felt his legs hit the couch and they were falling right on top of it.  Their limbs tangled with each other and their breaths went uneven as Louis threw caution to the wind, pulling Harry’s shirt up and off over his head, the boy complying easily and allowing him to do it.  Harry’s hair was the sexiest thing Louis had ever seen, wild and disheveled as though a tornado had run through it, but Louis didn’t get much time to admire it before the boy was leaning back in, hungrily sealing their lips together as Louis laid with his back against the couch.

Once the boy put in work in order to get Louis’ pants off, leaving the boy in only his briefs and sweatshirt, something went off in Louis’ mind and he finally began to come to his senses a bit.

“Wait— _Harry_ …” the boy continued to kiss at his neck as though he couldn’t even hear Louis.  “ _Haz_ , look at me,” Louis tried, tapping against his shoulder.

Harry finally pulled his head back, lifting his gaze in order to bring it to Louis, his lips bitten and shiny, his eyes huge with lust, his cheeks a deep shade of scarlet red.

Louis fought the desire to pull him right back in, taking a moment to remember what Liam had told him: _Sexual attraction will be off the charts for the first couple of weeks.  Try your best to control yourself._

Louis closed his eyes, knowing that if he kept watching Harry _stare_ at him like that, he’d give in.

“You’ve never done this before,” Louis said, keeping his voice soft.

“So?” Harry replied.  “I want to do it now.”

“ _Do_ you?” Louis asked, already beginning to turn to mush as Harry nuzzled his nose against his neck.  “Or is this just the lusty, sex-crazed Harry talking?”

Harry seemed to stop listening to him, his hands smoothing themselves up under Louis’ shirt and causing chills to pulse through his body in waves.  Once Louis felt another kiss at his neck, he took control of the situation, flipping them over and pinning the boy’s wrists against the couch cushion.  Harry was swiftly taken aback, his eyes widening as he breathed heavily and locked eyes with his boyfriend.

“Listen, you nympho,” Louis started, Harry beginning to chuckle underneath him.  “Yes, you are very sexy like this, and if I didn’t have common sense right now, I would carry you to the bed and do many _, many_ things to you, but…” Louis began, his eyes flickering down to the way Harry was biting down on his bottom lip.  “This would be your— _our_ first time doing this.  You don’t even know what you’re _doing_.”

“Teach me,” Harry replied, his words coming out as a single breath as he continued to hold Louis’ gaze.

Louis was a dead man.  Here this boy was, looking at Louis in a way Louis could’ve only imagined in his dreams, literally _asking_ for sex.  Louis began to shake his head before he could give in any further.

“You’re killing me babe…” he said, continuing to shake his head as he gently released the boy’s wrists.

Harry began to sit up, subtly trying to join their lips again and falling disappointed when Louis inched backwards.

“I thought you wanted to,” Harry said, practically _whispered_ , his eyes going sad.

Louis placed a hand on the back of Harry’s neck, rubbing his thumb up and down and tracing through the hairs at the nape of Harry’s neck as he brought their foreheads together.  “I do.  I promise you that with every bone in my body, I _do_.  The thing is, I don’t know if _you_ do.”

Harry’s hand came up slowly, caressing Louis’ hand that was still braced at the back of his neck.  He slid the boy’s hand across his shoulder, down his bare, sweat beaded chest, sliding against his torso, until it was right up against the front of his pants, and Louis was fucking _feeling_ how aroused Harry was.

A cheeky smirk grew on Harry’s face as he brought his eyes back up to Louis.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” Harry purred.

“Fuck,” Louis breathed, pretty much cutting himself off by leaning back into Harry, pushing him back against the couch as their lips joined once again.

They didn’t get very far before the sound of the hotel room door bursting open interrupted the both of them.

Louis turned his head to find Niall, one of his hands holding the room key, and his other hand covering his eyes as he took blind steps into their suite.

“Why are you covering your eyes?” Louis asked tiredly.

“Because I don’t know what I’m walking into, and I don’t wanna be scarred,” the boy replied.

Louis sat up, continuing to feel Harry’s fingers brushing at his thighs as the boy seemed to be getting impatient.

Louis huffed.  “Well, we’re kind of busy Niall, so—“

“We’ve been waiting for you to show up at rehearsal for about half an hour now,” Niall said, his hand still over his eyes as he now stood in place.

 _Rehearsal_ , that was where he had been headed.

“Shit,” Louis breathed, before getting himself off of Harry’s lap and shuffling to grab his trackies in order to pull them back on.  “We’re not naked Niall. You can stop covering your eyes.”

Niall did just that, quite cautiously and slowly as he moved his fingers away.  He seemed pleased to find that Louis was telling the truth, and that the only sight of skin that could be seen was a shirtless Harry.

“We forgive you, by the way,” Niall added, patiently crossing one of his ankles over the other.  “We all understand.”

“Thanks,” Louis muttered, almost in a hurry to get the fuck out before Harry could suck him back in.  He grabbed his guitar from where it was rested against the wall, and he could feel the boy’s needy (and probably angry) eyes on his back.

“You’re leaving?” Harry asked (again).

“Don’t worry.  He’ll be back in about three hours,” Niall replied, flashing a grin in Harry’s direction.

Harry appeared less than eager to return that grin as he pushed himself off of the couch, taking slow steps toward Louis. 

“Goodbye kiss?” he asked.

With a fond roll of his eyes that had Harry perking up immediately, Louis stepped toward him, taking the boy’s face between both of his hands.  He placed a giant, quick kiss on the boy’s cheek, surely throwing the boy off completely.  He blew the boy another goodbye kiss as he backed away toward the door, not surprised to find Harry slowly turning into an angry, spoiled mess of curls.

“You’re evil,” Harry muttered, crossing his arms.

“But you still love me,” Louis replied, right before closing the door behind himself.

 

~*~

 

When they actually _did_ end up having each other, it was at a time where they were both rational, fully in control of their emotions and actions, didn’t have anywhere to be, and knew what they wanted.  Louis _knew_ Harry; even though the boy sometimes tried to hide it, Louis knew that he was extremely sentimental, and that if he and Louis were going to make love, he wanted it to be special, complete with chocolates, rose petals, champagne, fragrances—all that Harry-esque shit that Louis loved.

 The morning after was blissful. He and Harry had moved the hotel mattress outside on the balcony so that they could sleep with the birds and the moon, and Louis had woken up feeling better than he’d felt in years.  It was almost as though he was weightless, floating through the air around them with no worries, nothing to stress him out—not a care in the world.

He’d blinked his eyes open to Harry gazing at him, brushing his knuckles up and down the bare skin of Louis’ arm.

“Finally,” Harry whispered, to which a grin immediately grew across Louis’ face, his eyes still half closed as he slowly came out his state of being asleep.

“Good morning,” Louis replied, followed by a yawn as he nuzzled his face further into the pillow.

The wind tousled Harry’s hair a bit as they finally locked gaze.  “Good morning.”

Louis let his eyes close for a second as he felt Harry’s hand come to gently touch his cheek, thumb brushing across the skin with an easy softness.

Louis had felt close to Harry for some time, but right now, he felt a closeness to Harry that was unprecedented.  They’d explored every part of each other, opening themselves to whatever the other had to offer, and Louis felt they’d never been more connected.

Louis moved forward, wrapping an arm around the back of Harry’s neck and speaking into his shoulder.

“Last night…” Louis started, keeping his voice gentle as he stroked Harry’s skin.  “Did you like it?”  He tried not to be cheeky or grin or anything, because of _course_ the boy liked it—they’d gone three rounds.  But, just in _case_ Harry had just been playing it up to make Louis feel better, Louis wanted to make sure he was comfortable.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, hugging Louis by his waist.  “Like.  A lot.”

Louis giggled, bringing his hand a few inches down in order to stroke over the print across Harry’s skin.  It still freaked him out, but in a good way.  He hadn’t come to _complete_ terms with the fact that this person, who was once a complete stranger, had a rose and knife tattoo on his back—the exact same one that Louis had been casually seeing and ignoring for years—and how it meant that they were a perfect match for each other.  What was even weirder was that Louis _agreed_ with the universe, with the tattoos, with _whatever_.  No other person on the planet could’ve been more of a perfect match for Louis Tomlinson than Harry Styles.

“Was it good for you?” Harry asked.

Louis smiled against the boy’s collar bone.  “’Course.  I began to wonder if it was actually your first time.”

“Well…” Harry started, but was rendered unable to utter another word when Louis pinched him in his side.  “ _Ow_ —I’m _kidding_.”

“You’d better be.”

He could feel Harry grinning just from the way he went silent for a moment.  “I mean, I _almost_ did that one time—“

“Yeah, don’t remind me.”

Harry fully allowed himself to laugh, hugging Louis tightly as Louis set his jaw tight at just the _thought_ of anyone putting their hands on Harry.

“My possessive little puppy,” Harry murmured into his skin. 

Louis had learned that Harry pretty much adored when he was possessive, and sure, it was cute to a certain extent, but Louis was sure that the amount of jealousy he had inside of him toward anyone that came near Harry was something he was going to have to work on.  No, it wasn’t a soulmate side effect—Louis had been possessive over that boy from the first moment he saw him holding hands with Cecile.  Sure, Harry was laughing about his jealousy now, but if Louis didn’t gain control over it, it was going to cause problems in the future.  Problems that could ultimately ruin everything, and cause Harry to want to leave.

They whispered back and forth for a few moments into the morning, before Harry announced that he was going to go down to the lobby for breakfast, Louis had said that he wanted to rest in bed for a bit longer, and Harry had sweetly kissed his head before leaving.

Louis took a much-needed moment for himself as he laid alone, the sun beginning to brightly beam down against him as the wind worked to make sure it didn’t get too hot out.

He couldn’t even believe he was laying out there.  Because he had slept there last night.  With his boyfriend.  His boyfriend who he’d been dating for almost two months now, who hadn’t _left yet_.  Just a few more weeks and this would’ve been Louis’ longest relationship.  It all still felt very surreal.

With every week that they continued to be together, continued to effortlessly fall in sync with one another as though it was nothing, Louis grew weary of how bad the pain was going to be when— _if_ Harry left.

Louis let those thoughts subside however, because everything was fine.  Harry still stared at him with lights behind his eyes, making Louis feel like he was everything and more.  No need to ruin things that haven’t happened because of his pessimistic ways of thinking.

He left the hotel room a little while after, intent to join the boy downstairs and have breakfast with him, but once he’d exited the elevator and reached the lobby, he stopped just short of the dining room, watching for a moment.

There Harry was, sat around a table with Liam, Marcus, and Zayn (Niall didn’t like to be awake before twelve p.m. if he didn’t have to be), all of them with breakfast on their plates as they laughed and joked around as though they hadn’t just woken up, shoved each other, told stories that held no meaningful ending.  Louis pressed a hand against the frame of the doorway he was standing in.

Louis was just so…happy.  And even better, Harry was too.  The boy could’ve easily been a miserable mess, tagging along on the tour with Louis and having nothing else to turn to when he needed a break, but here he was, casually enjoying breakfast with the boys and nearly falling out of his seat with laughter at something Zayn had said.  Louis was grateful that Harry had his best friend there.  Sure, Zayn was going to leave when summer ended in order to continue school (and Niall’s soul was going be crushed), but for now, he was here, and he was providing Harry with comfort.

Everything was just perfect.

Louis felt his eyes beginning tingle with emotion and _no_ , he was not going to cry.  This was all way too sappy, for goodness’s sake.

Louis shook his head before walking forward to join them, not even contemplating it before he slid into Harry’s lap, sitting with his legs dangling off of one side of the chair.

It was all so _normal_ that no one even reacted to it; Harry just let one of his hands smooth against Louis’ thigh as all the boys continued to talk.

Louis loved the fact that this was normal.

He curved an arm around the back of Harry’s neck, resting his head against the boy’s shoulder as he began to tell a story about Angel that Louis had heard two thousand times before.  Louis didn’t mind hearing it again, however, because he absolutely loved when Harry shared things, opened up, _talked_ , _breathed_.  He loved it when Harry did anything.

Louis watched the way his lips moved very carefully, and one of his fingers came up to trace against Harry’s jaw.  His breath hiccupped faintly—not loud enough for anyone to hear—when Harry snuck an arm around his waist, fingers lightly gripping his hip as he held him in place.  Louis’ curious fingers felt at his cheek for a moment, testing to see if Harry would subtly lean into the touch—and when he did, Louis’ heart jumped.  He was still talking, and he didn’t even know it.  It was ingrained in him, his desire to lean into the boy’s touch.

Louis brought his hand over to Harry’s hair as he remained rested on his shoulder, and he ran his fingers through it, observing as Harry’s body went more relaxed and he began brushing his fingers against Louis’ hip.

Louis finally wrapped both of his arms loosely around Harry’s neck, snuggling himself in and tiredly listening to the rest of their conversation.

At some point, Zayn made a comment about the crème puffs that Harry had apparently not gotten from the buffet because he didn’t know if they were good or not.  Zayn insisted that they were amazing as he spoke through a mouth that was stuffed with one, and then he proceeded to grab one off of his own plate and bring it towards Harry’s mouth.

He didn’t succeed in feeding him though, because Louis’ foot came up and intercepted Zayn, kicking the pastry right out of his hand.

Liam and Marcus seemed not to notice as they continued chuckling about whatever inside joke they’d been chuckling about for the past five minutes, but Zayn’s lips parted as he watched the pastry hit the floor, the crème splattering out of it. 

The grin on Harry’s face had dropped too.

“My foot slipped,” was all Louis could think of to say.

Harry turned his eyes toward Louis for the first time in the several minutes they’d sat there, his expression all but pleased.

Louis put his head down, eyes focused on his thighs as he grew weary of all the eyes fixed upon him right about now.

His gaze was brought back up when Harry’s fingers settled underneath his chin and lifted his face.

“It’s _Zayn_ ,” Harry said, a bit forcefully as Louis narrowed his eyes.  “ _Zayn.”_

Zayn let out a long breath, his eyes soft and focused on Louis, as though intent to let the boy know he understood.  “Yeah.  It’s me.”

Yes, Zayn.  Louis knew Zayn.  Zayn was Harry’s best friend of quite some time, and he was actually in the picture long before Louis ever was, so there was no reason for Louis to do outlandish, possessive things like kick pastries out of his hand while he’s trying to feed them to Harry.  It was just that Louis was so _jealous_ when it came to Harry, and at every turn Louis saw a new opportunity for someone to try to whisk Harry away, show the boy that he deserved better and could easily have it, so Louis couldn’t blame himself for being so paranoid that kicking pastries out of a boy’s hand was pretty much a reflex at this point.

Louis looked back down, picking at the cotton of Harry’s t-shirt with fidgety fingers.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.  “It’s a reflex.”

Zayn’s face broke into a grin, chuckling lightly as he reached out and set a gentle hand on Louis’ knee.  “Ah, I get it.  It should go away soon.”  And then he went into a story about how Niall had almost cracked a glass over some guy’s head because he put a hand on Zayn’s hip, and everyone seemed to fall back into the mood—except Louis.

Because it wasn’t just a part of the stupid fucking soulmate phase.  It was who he was.

Without a word, Louis let himself slide off of Harry’s lap.  Many of them didn’t seem to stir as he walked away, just like they hadn’t really reacted when he came, but he felt Harry’s eyes sharp on his back as he left through the doorway of the breakfast dining room.

He took a step outside after walking through the lobby that was busy with people, full of rolling luggage carts, suitcases being dragged alongside clinking feet, and kids running around.  He felt a little refreshed by the cool air once he stepped out, although he was highly confused as to what kind of demonic place had cool air in the summer.  Fucking New York.

Louis crossed his arms and rested his back against the brick wall near the entrance, just taking a moment to breathe. 

It was instances like these—instances where he got a glimpse as to what it would be that would eventually make Harry leave.  It was like little peeks into the future, and it terrified Louis to no end.

The crossing of his arms started to evolve into him holding his torso, attempting to keep himself together as he stifled the fear of losing Harry.

He forced himself to repeat a positive mantra in his head.  _He’s here.  He’s here now.  Enjoy the moment for as long as it lasts._

The mantra helped him to calm a bit as he watched cars zoom past on the street, gusts of air carrying his fringe toward the direction of the wind.

It didn’t take much longer for Harry to come out, one of his own hoodies slung over his shoulder as he approached Louis.

Louis pushed himself away from the wall, facing Harry with his eyes full of a silent desperation.

“You’re breaking up with me,” Louis said, and—fuck, that wasn’t what he was supposed to say.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, taking the last few steps toward Louis and keeping his eyes focused.  “Why would I do that?”

Louis’ lips opened and closed for a moment as he tried to decide which of the ten answers he had to the question to use.  He crossed his arms tighter as another car flew by, the wind causing him to shiver a bit.

“Because I’m…” Louis started, taking notice of Harry slipping the hoodie off of his shoulder and onto Louis.  He knew Louis got cold easily, and that was why he had brought it.  Of course.

Louis complied, slipping his arms through each hole with Harry’s aid.  “I’m not…I’m needy.  And I’m possessive, and I’m insecure, and I just—I’m not even smart enough to realize that freaking _Zayn_ is not a potential threat and—“

He was quieted, soothed out of his agitated state as Harry caressed his right cheek.  Louis blinked up at him with doe eyes, still a little confused on whether this was a breakup or not.  He forced himself to relax into Harry’s hoodie, drown in the smell and the size of it that reminded him of the word “home”.

“You’re not the only one with problems,” Harry said, his thumb ghosting across Louis’ cheek bone and causing the skin to tingle.

“What’s that mean?”

Harry sighed for a moment, closing and opening his eyes as he brought himself closer to Louis.  “It means, I wouldn’t be so hard on you for something I’m still working on myself.”

“Oh shut up, Harry,” Louis scoffed, running a hand through his own hair as the beginnings of tears began to prickle behind his eyes.  “You’re perfect at this.”

Harry drew his eyebrows together, seemingly struggling to understand the boy in front of him.

“You don’t get a burning sensation to clench your fists every time another guy comes near me, you aren’t kept awake at night with the fear that I might decide to up and leave one day, you’re not undeserving of me in the way that I’m undeserving of you,” Louis explained, his voice only quivering a bit.

“And why would you be undeserving of me?”

Louis stepped away, Harry’s hand falling from his cheek as the boy began to pace.  “Because I’m a fucking _mess_ , have you ever tried _looking_ at me?” Louis asked, before swallowing a lump in his throat.  He held his hands to his chest as he took slow steps back and forth along the sidewalk, Harry watching him intently.  “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life and I keep being afraid I might fuck it up.”

“Do you ever stop for a second to think about how I might be thinking the exact same thing?” Harry asked, his voice a tad bit more on the aggressive side now, bringing Louis’ steps to a halt.  “I’m fucking—“ Harry started, messing with the strands at the back of his neck as he snorted—“I’m scared too, Lou.  I’m not perfect in comparison to you, even though your mind makes it seem that way.  Sometimes I’m noncommunicative, and instead of telling you how I feel, I ignore you, I’m stubborn and rarely ever open to change, and _Jesus,_ if you don’t think I’m as possessive as you are, you must be _blind_.”

Louis stood there, rubbing the sleeves of the hoodie together because of the fact that they extended well past his hands.

His first thought was related to the fact that the boy had called him Lou.  It was becoming an occasional thing nowadays, but Louis’ insides still danced every time it happened.  His mother was the only person that called him Lou.

“I literally watched you attach yourself to other guys for _months_ before we ever got together, so I’m pretty familiar with the feeling of jealousy,” Harry continued, moving to close the area between him and Louis again.  His eyes resembled glass, and here it was: the big, sappy emotional moment that Louis had been avoiding altogether. 

“And it hurt, Louis,” Harry said, his voice going weak as he held the boy’s eyes.  He brought his hand up to toy with the zipper on his hoodie he’d let Louis wear.  “It fucking hurt.  Yet I’m here.  Right now.  With you.”  Harry appeared to be choking up as he tried to blink the tears away, looking off into another direction and offering a dry laugh.  “What makes you think a fucking crème puff would make me break up with you after I stayed through all of _that_?”

Louis was rendered speechless for a moment, keeping his feet planted where they were as Harry’s fingers began to gently tug at the strings of the hoodie. 

“I wanted to fucking stab Eli with a pencil,” Harry mumbled as he looked down at their feet, as though it was just a casual thing to say.  Louis couldn’t miss the way the knuckles of his fingers turned white around the string of the hoodie.

Ugh.  It made sense.

He and Harry had discussed this a considerable amount of times by now—the fact that Louis kept hooking up with guys and Harry was becoming heartbroken by the second, all while Louis had absolutely no idea that he was even hurting the boy.  How the hell was he supposed to know he was tearing Harry apart every time he grinded on some dude at a party if the boy never even _told_ him?  That was beside the point, however, because it still made Louis feel like the biggest dickhead of them all.  He didn’t even want to imagine Harry being sad over him, burying tears into his pillow because Louis had decided to go home with some other guy that wasn’t him.  It was painful to even think about.

“Okay,” Louis said after a moment’s silence, and he felt as though he’d finally exhaled after much too long.  “Sorry, I’m just paranoid.  This is all new for me—I don’t _date_.  I have no idea what I’m doing, and you’re my first proper boyfriend—“

“I think you’re forgetting something,” Harry interrupted, bringing his huge eyes back up to Louis as a smirk grew on his face that had Louis smiling right back, naturally.  “You’re my first boyfriend too.”

Louis’ insides turned to sweet, pink cotton candy with Harry staring at him so softly, his lips pulled to one side and his fingers gripping the strings in order to pull Louis in closer.

A sense of relief washed over Louis, spreading to his fingertips, down through his toes, evening out his mind.

Harry was going through the same thing as him, _with_ him.  Louis wasn’t alone, no matter how hard his fucked up mind tried to convince him he was. They both were aware they had issues to overcome, jealous habits to work on that had the potential to become unhealthy, and with so much time ahead of them, Louis was certain they'd eventually be alright.

“And—you know me, I’m pretty confident in who I am and stuff, but…” Harry started, shrugging for a moment.  “It _is_ different, having people’s eyes linger on us just a second longer when we as much as hug each other.  When I held hands with girls, people didn’t bat an eyelash, but now they do.  It’s…different.”

Louis got on the tips of his toes and moved his head forward so that their noses were touching, Harry nearly growing cross-eyed in order to look at him.

“And what did I tell you about anyone that gives you shit?”

“Kick them in the balls,” Harry laughed, playfully attempting to shove Louis away, which only resulted in a soul squeezing hug around his waist.

“Yep,” Louis replied, Harry giggling as Louis obnoxiously nuzzled against the boy’s chest.  “That is, if I’m not around to kick them in the balls first.”

“You know, kicking people in the balls doesn’t solve the world’s problems,” Harry replied, beginning to rub at Louis’ back.

“Well, the guys whose balls I’ve kicked sure haven’t ever fucked with me again,” Louis said, pulling back an inch in order to look at Harry’s face again.  “I’ve always looked out for myself, and now I’m gonna look out for you.”  Louis didn’t hesitate before leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of Harry’s nose, the boy’s face lighting up like a fire.

“So are we gonna stop talking about imaginary stuff, like break ups now?” Harry asked, setting both of his arms on Louis’ shoulders.

Louis nodded, even though something uneasy was brought about in his stomach at the word “imaginary”.

“I’m not _saying_ you will—“ Louis started, fixing a serious gaze on Harry.  “But if you _do_ want to break up with me, you can.  Just because we’re _soulmates_ doesn’t mean you should ever feel forced to be with me.”

Harry brushed some stray strands of Louis’ fringe out of his face, an elated smile seeming to now be permanently attached to his lips.  “I understand, Lou.”

They shared a moment—a close, intense moment of breathing in one another’s presence, the greens and blues of their eyes seeming to mix, their senses alert to every touch of skin against skin.  They did this often, completely comfortable with the shared moment of awareness.

Louis opened his mouth a few times before speaking, Harry’s eyes immediately darting down to watch his lips carefully.  “Despite everything…I’m so, so _fucking_ happy you’re here.  I’m happy I’m with you.  You’re still here, and you love me, and you make it easier to love myself.”

There were definitely tears welling in Harry’s eyes now as his fingers grasped at the material of Louis’ hoodie.  “That’s all I want for you.  To love yourself as much as I love you.  Even _more_ , if that’s possible.  But…I don’t think it is, considering how much I love you.”

“You fucking sap,” Louis replied, his voice cracking at the end as he brought both of his hands up to wipe at his eyes.  God, when did his life turn into The fucking Notebook?  “You’re disgusting.”

“What can I say, I can’t help it,” Harry said, wiping a single tear from his own cheek as well.

Louis loved him so much he was pretty sure he was going to explode.  What does a person even _do_ with so much love in their body for one person?  He felt like he was going to burst with it when he so much as glanced in Harry’s direction.  He figured the best way to deal with it was to cherish it, relish in the beauty of it and try his best to be everything the boy deserved, to put a smile on his face even in his lowest of times.  Louis was pretty convinced doing so was his life duty.

Louis let the pads of his fingers trail down Harry’s forearm, and then his wrist, right up until he was palm to palm with Harry, allowing their hands to join, finger laced between finger. 

“They finally fixed up our tour bus, you know,” Louis said, his tone soft.

Harry’s eyes brightened.  “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s parked around the curb,” Louis replied, pointing over his shoulder with one hand and continuing to caress Harry’s grip with the other.  “Want a _tour_ of the _tour bus?”_ he asked, raising his eyebrows twice in order to make sure Harry got the joke.

Harry began laughing overdramatically, even bending over to slap at his thigh with his free hand as the grin left Louis’ face and he just stood there, narrowing his eyes at the boy.

“That was the funniest thing I’ve ever heard in my _life_ ,” Harry said, pretending to be out of breath as Louis huffed and began his walk toward the tour bus, Harry being pulled along by their joined hands.

“I’ll have you know I’m a comedian, and sarcastic laughter doesn’t phase me,” Louis offered as a rebuttal.

“Louis, that was a serious, authentic laugh.”

“I would really love to hear you tell a joke that doesn’t start with ‘knock knock’,” Louis said, a grin creeping its way onto his lips as their arms lightly swayed between each other.

“You, kicking people in the balls.  That’s one.”

“How so?”

“How can you kick something you can’t even reach?”

That did it for Louis as he rounded the boy and jumped onto his back, Harry’s hands immediately going under his thighs as though he didn’t even have to think about it.  Louis ruffled his hair up as he rubbed his knuckles into it, messing it up to the point of no return as the boy laughed and pleaded under him.

“No amount of combing and blow drying will fix this,” Louis said, beginning to giggle as he locked his legs around Harry’s waist.

“Your plan backfired.  Now I have sex hair,” Harry replied, hiking Louis up as he continued his stride down the sidewalk.

Louis wrapped his arms loosely around Harry’s neck as he rested his head against the boy’s shoulder.  “Good.  Now everyone has the exact image of what I made you look like last night.”

He could _feel_ Harry’s blush.

“The tour bus…” Harry started, his words hesitant.  “is everything in it new?”

“Yep.”

“Even the couches?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Even the beds?”

Louis smirked as he nodded.  “Yes.  Why?”

“Because I need to take a really good, long nap.”

Louis snorted as he traced his fingers over his love’s collarbone.  “We’re gonna have to talk about you being a tease.”

“Teasing?  I do no such thing.”

Louis hooked an arm around his chest, pressing a single kiss to where his neck met his shoulder.  “You’re lucky I love you.”

He fell into peace with the steady movement of Harry’s steps, finding a home in Harry’s hair and wondering what he’d done in order to deserve how tremendously satisfied he was with life.  He eventually chose not to question it, and to instead just be in the moment with his band, the love of his life, and all of this newfound hope for the future.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank u <3


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